


How Wonderful Life Is Now You're In The World

by MoistTowelette



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Breakups, Kum - Freeform, M/M, Puckurt, Romance, You know Glee and their constant partner swapping, couples, eventual lasting Puckurt, happens here, my longest fic so bear with, posted on fanfic if you want to read ahead, posting one chap at a time, some happy moments, some sad, some songs hope you don't mind, umm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 02:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 42,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoistTowelette/pseuds/MoistTowelette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt is crushing on the one boy he should not, at all, under any circumstances, be crushing on. So imagine his surprise when he finds out he's crushing back, however hesitant he is to admit it.<br/>It's not going to be easy. The road to true love never is. The only thing they have to figure out is, are they worth it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Beginnings

He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t love at first sight. The minute he laid eyes on him from across the parking lot of McKinley High the only thing he could focus on aside from his haircut (either he’d been styled by Stevie Wonder or that mohawk was on purpose) was how incredibly gorgeous he was. He also couldn’t help but notice the rips and tears in his jeans (again whether on purpose or by accident he was unsure) and the holes in his t-shirts. Did he have Freddy Krueger as a drycleaner or was he getting all his hand-me downs from the Hulk? Seriously, this kid needed major styling advice. He didn’t have time to offer his services, however, because before he could even begin to approach him he was gripped roughly from behind and swung over the shoulder of a prosimian in a letterman jacket and carried, kicking and screaming, to the corner of the lot where the tanned mohawked boy was standing with his friends. 

“What about this one?” his kidnapper asked. “He’s got a freaking purse.”

“It’s not a purse, you ape, it’s a satchel! Indiana Jones had one!” the young boy yelled. The mohawked boy glanced at the small pale student slung over his friend’s shoulder  
for a second before deciding. With a nod of his head the kidnapper got the go-ahead to thrust the milky skinned boy unceremoniously into the dumpster behind the gaggle of jocks. He landed with a soft plop on what he assumed to be garbage but was horrified to learn was actually someone’s outfit of choice. 

“Oww! Watch it!” hissed the girl who was unfortunate enough to be wearing such a hideous ensemble.

“Excuse me if I didn’t see your signal lights on so I could execute a soft landing, but I didn’t intend to be sent toppling over into a dumpster my first day of high school!” he exclaimed. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you, it’s just, I’ve been stuck in here since my dads dropped me off at daybreak. I wanted to get here early to introduce myself to all my teachers and ask the principal if he’d be opposed to me singing the national anthem at this morning’s assembly when I was assaulted by these barbarians and tossed into this dumpster. I’ve been here ever since and I really need to pee.”

Hoping she couldn’t see him roll his eyes in the dark of the trash bin he realized the first day of high school hadn’t even started yet and, if his present company were any indication, he’d already been branded a loser. Sighing in defeat he clutched his satchel and wished the day could be over so he could retreat to his room and listen to the _Dreamgirls_ soundtrack on repeat. 

Ignoring his sigh the girl thrust out her hand amicably and announced, “I’m Rachel Barry and I’m going to be a star. I learned from my idol, Barbara Streisand, that you have to be confident in your dreams and state your plans for the future at every possible moment so that with enough determination and conviction you can ensure they come to fruition.”

His head still whirring from her introduction he anxiously extended his hand and said, “I’m Kurt Hummel.” He had to be on his toes with this one; this Rachel girl looked like the type of person who shook your hand with one hand but stabbed you in the back with the other.

“Pleased to meet you, Kurt,” she said. After a moment’s silence she said, “I think the Neanderthals have retreated. Would you mind giving me a lift? I can’t exactly pull myself up; it’s why I’ve been here so long.”

“Umm, sure,” he replied. Before lacing his hands together in a makeshift step he pondered aloud, “Do you think they’re always going to treat us like this? I mean, is it going to be like this everyday?” He grunted as she placed all her weight on his hands, what he could only assume to be thrift store shoes digging into his palms.

“Of course not,” Rachel replied as she used his shoulders for leverage and swung her legs over the rim of the dumpster. “I don’t know about you, but I have a marvelous singing voice, and once they see how talented I am every single person in this school, student and faculty member alike, will bow to my greatness and treat me like the star I am.” Hopping down to the ground and brushing herself off she yelled, “Now throw over your purse and you should be able to climb out of there.”

“It’s not a purse, it’s a satchel!” he shrieked.

That was over two years ago, when Kurt, Rachel, and who he’d eventually learned was Noah Puckerman, were freshman. They were juniors now and despite Rachel’s incredible singing voice and dancing skills it was her talent to annoy that hindered any hope she had at infiltrating the popular cliques of McKinley. Thus the dumpster dives continued, accompanied by locker shoves, book tosses, and, with the opening of a 7-11 down the street from the high school, full frontal facial slushies. The jocks were elated to find that the convenient location of the mini-mart ensured the syrupy drinks were still icy when thrust at the social flotsam and jetsam of McKinley High. 

The glee club was less than thrilled. As the bottom of the social heap they’d received more slushies than all of the other cliques combined. They would have preferred the watery slushie as opposed to its icy relative because the watered down version was less chilly, which meant less of a shock once it came into contact with someone’s skin. Also, the more watery version simply dripped down one’s clothes, whereas the icy version dripped down one’s clothes and lodged chunks of ice and freezing cold liquid into nooks and crannies not intended by God to be penetrated until one’s marriage. The only comfort the glee club had was that they were not alone in their suffering and eventually every member had the unhappy task of cleaning sticky cold slushie from their body.

It began with the core five. Rachel had practically been slushied her entire freshman year, so in a way she began this initiation rite by being slushied her sophomore year at sign-ups, when glee club was just being restarted by an eager Mr. Schuester. She always claimed she was ahead of her time; for once she was right.

In short order the other original members of glee had been slushied: Kurt was cornered one day on his way to homeroom with blueberry, ruining his new Zac Posen blouse (fashion knows no gender); Mercedes Jones had been doused with Coca-cola flavor on her way back from Economics; in a sick twist of fate Tina Cohen-Chang was splashed with cherry-lime in the halls outside gym right after she’d showered; and up until recently wheelchair-bound Artie had been spared the humiliation of slushies until the football team reversed their stance on not picking on the handicapable and the entire team had dumped cherry flavor on the helpless boy. 

Finn Hudson, glee’s first “popular” member, thought he was safe until he was met with a face-full of wildberry after his first glee club rehearsal; his girlfriend Quinn Fabray and her cohorts Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce thought they too were above reproach until their cheerleading coach, Sue Sylvester, instructed the entire Cheerio squad to dump limited edition strawberry-banana flavor on the three as a symbolic gesture of their betrayal for actually enjoying glee club when they were supposed to be spying; Mike Chang needed to change his underwear after the kiwi-lime courtesy of the hockey team dripped down his entire body and soaked his pants; recently Sam Evans got grape slushied so badly his normally blond hair was stained purple for days, prompting an emergency lemon dye-job; and even Noah Puckerman, the boy who was a part of the original slushing, discovered karma in the form of a Big Gulp full of seasonal flavor cranberry-cherry right to his face. 

Previously the slushies had created such a problem that a new janitor had to be hired just to address the problem of slippery and sticky floors when suddenly they stopped after a miraculous win by the Warriors at the Conference Championship. In the aftermath of the win, during which the glee club and the football team had been forced to work together by Coach Bieste and Mr. Schuester, a truce had been called and it seemed as if there would finally be peace between the two warring factions.

But it was all a pipe dream, because that truce would be broken. Today.

Splash! The entire contents of a medium sized slushie cup came flying at him so fast he didn’t have time to react. His face looked grotesquely cheery as it was stained by the bright red drink. Running into the nearest bathroom he pushed whoever was blocking the sink out of the way as he furiously scrubbed the syrup out of his eyes. Hearing a high-pitched offended gasp from the person next to him he grew afraid he’d set foot into the girl’s bathroom until he caught a glimpse of the urinals behind him. Turning to his left he was met with the sight of a very flustered looking Kurt Hummel wiping chapstick off his cheeks.

Through a smirk, he offered an apology. “Sorry, Hummel. I just had to get this crap out of my eyes before they turned red permanently.” 

“Apology not accepted,” he said as he stretched his cheeks in an effort to wipe the smeared chapstick off his face. “I was barely going to make it to class as it is, but now – ,” he paused as the ear-splitting ring of the bell signaled the beginning of the next period, “I’m late.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t been busy applying lipstick you would have made it on time.” Blinking away the water that had accumulated above his lids Puck stepped away from the sink. Seeing his shirt was soaked beyond repair he rolled it above his head and pulled it off before turning to exit the bathroom. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Principal Figgins is still on the warpath after Finn’s naked attempt at boosting his confidence before ‘The Rocky Horry Picture Show’,” Kurt said.

“Crap. The last thing I need is to get another suspension.”

Rummaging in his messenger bag Kurt pulled out a white shirt and thrust it into Puck’s chest. 

“Here. I carry an extra shirt on me in case of emergency situations.”

“No offense, dude, but you’re clothes are already too tight on you. There’s no way that could fit me.”

“It’s not mine, it’s Finn’s. Well, it was. He gave me some of his old shirts and I use them for PE. No way am I getting something of mine all dirty.” Sensing Puck’s hesitation, he added, “Don’t worry, it’s clean.”

Smirking, Puck took the proffered shirt and began to slip it over his head when Kurt stopped him. “Wait! You still have some slushie behind your ear.”

“Oh.” Reaching back Puck’s hand was met with the sticky residue of the attack. “Must’ve missed it.”

“Come here,” Kurt motioned towards the sink. He rustled around in his bag while Puck rocked on his heels. 

“I thought you said were going to be late.” Smiling, he walked over to Hummel and bent down, resting his forehead on his arms at the lip of the sink.

“Yeah, well, I’m already late,” Kurt shrugged. Withdrawing a moist towelette he began to wipe around the edge of the taller boy’s ears, mopping up the bright red liquid where it had stained and stuck to his skin. As he began to wipe further down Puck’s bare back he heard the mohawked boy gasp as the wet cloth came into contact with his exposed skin.

“Tickles,” Puck whispered.

“It’s just a moist towelette,” Kurt said, suppressing a grin. Sopping up the last of the slushie Kurt patted Puck’s back and said, “All done.”

“Thanks, Hummel,” Puck said as he stood back to his feet and slipped the shirt Kurt handed to him on.

“Don’t mention it, Puckerman.” As Puck reached out to tousle the smaller boy’s hair, Kurt raised his hand to swipe it away before it made contact. “Seriously,” he said with finality.

Puck began a small giggle, which soon erupted into an all out laugh while Kurt looked on in wonder. 

“What in the name of Alexander McQueen’s ghost is so funny?” he asked.

“It’s just – I –,” he struggled between fits of laughter, “if someone told me a few years ago that I would be soaking wet from a slushie attack and you,” he gestured to Kurt “would help me recover from it I’d probably punch them in the face.” Kurt didn’t know what to make at this sudden philosophical outburst.

“See you at glee club,” Puck said as he exited the bathroom. Kurt stood in the middle of the room wondering what had just occurred between the two of them when Puck burst back in and collected his backpack, tousling Kurt’s hair with a triumphant laugh before rushing back out of the room. Gasping in horror Kurt could only call out, “Puckerman, I am going to murder you!” Looking in the mirror while trying to fix his hair Kurt couldn’t help but smile as he remembered touching Puck’s bare skin. Biting his bottom lip before his smile threatened to rupture his cheek muscles he took out another moist towelette and continued wiping off the smeared chapstick from the side of his face.

Standing at Mercedes’ locker, twirling his bangs in his finger Kurt couldn’t help but roll his eyes as Karofsky and Azimio strolled past and made yet another uninspired and disparaging comment regarding his sexuality. 

Slamming her locker after hurling a few choice curse words at the pair, Mercedes turned to Kurt and asked, “Want me to end them for you?”

Wrapping an arm through hers while walking towards the exit he said, “I would, but then we’d have the terrible task of disposing the bodies and ape blood just does not go with these new Stella McCartney’s.” Lifting his leg in front of the shorter girl so she could appreciate the work of art that was his boot, he continued, “And besides, I’d have to testify on your behalf during the trial and I just don’t have the money set aside this month for a proper ‘court outfit’.”

“If you say so,” Mercedes laughed. She paused to click her Bluetooth ear piece on as she continued walking with Kurt. “You’ve got Mercedes,” she said.

Taking this momentary lapse in her attention to update his tumblr fashion blog on his iPhone Kurt heard Mercedes say goodbye to her caller as they entered the parking lot of McKinley High.

“Who was that?” he asked.

“Brittany. She’s really nervous about this number me and her have to do for glee. I told her she has a good voice and we could sing together, but she wants me to do Adele’s new song while she dances in the background. That girl has no self-confidence when it comes to singing,” she sighed. “So how are things with you and Puck?”

Grimacing as he remembered the moment earlier in the day when Mr. Schue announced him and Puck as duet partners Kurt said, “Fine. He’s coming over to my house later on today to go over some song choices.”

“Don’t let Finn try and talk you out of doing a duet with Puck now like he did with you and Sam. If he does just let me know and I’ll be more than happy to knock some sense into that square shaped head of his.”

“He was just looking out for the club last time. We really needed a twelfth member. It was nothing personal,” Kurt reasoned.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said through pursed lips. “I know he’s your brother and all now, but don’t think for a minute that I won’t knock the scalloped teeth out of his mouth if he messes with you again.” 

This earned a slight chuckle from Kurt. “Down, girl.” 

Waving goodbye to each other as they made their way to their respective vehicles Kurt couldn’t help but wonder if there wasn’t a small part of him that wanted Finn to object to his duet with Puck, if only so he wouldn’t have to suffer through being alone with the boy he was secretly crushing on for an extended amount of time.

“What about ‘Think of Me’ from _The Phantom of the Opera?”_ he asked.

“What about no?”

“Ooh, how about ‘I Get A Kick Out Of You’ from Anything Goes?” Kurt asked excitedly, waving the vinyl record in the air.

“Anything not from Broadway?” Puck sighed.

“How do you feel about Disney? I’ve really been wanting to cover ‘A Part of Your World’.”

“ _The Little Mermaid_?” Puck asked, barely hiding his contempt. “Can’t we at least do something from _Peter Pan_ or _Aladdin_?” Turning from his spot on Kurt’s bed and reaching out to rifle through his CDs he wondered aloud, “What’s _Oliver!_?”

Snatching the CD from out of Puck’s hands he said, “It’s a musical based on the Charles Dickens novel _Oliver Twist_ , and seeing as it’s from Broadway I guess we won’t be doing anything from it.”

Snatching the CD back from Kurt he said, “Hold up a minute, Hummel, you never said anything about _Oliver Twist_.” Puck flipped the CD over, looking at the track listing for all the songs. “Anything good on here?”

“Umm, yeah,” Kurt chuckled. “But what do you know about Oliver Twist?”

“Are you kidding me? I fucking love _Oliver Twist_! Dodger was the original badass. I learned all my best moves from him,” Puck said.

Doing his best to bite back a snicker Kurt gently reached out for the album and said, “That’s great, Noah, but we have to pick a love song for the competition.”

“How weird is it of Mr. Schue to do a love song and a duet competition?” Puck asked. “Is it just me or is he losing inspiration?”

“It does seem like his lesson plans are less challenging this year,” Kurt conceded. “But at least he tried to spice it up by having the majority of couples same-sex. That was unique.”

“Yeah, I still crack-up when I remember the look on Finn’s face when he got paired with Artie,” Puck laughed. “What song do you think they’re going to sing?”

“Finn’s being super-secretive about their song selection given the reward is a free trip to that new Mexican place that offers unlimited chips and salsa.”

“You know Santana showed up with a wheelbarrow and when the manager refused her she called the corporate offices and got her fired?” Puck asked.

“And with that in mind, we have to get back to the task at hand,” Kurt said. Pulling his record box (which was covered in old Louis Vuitton bags as the drabness of a milk crate was too depressing) towards him, Kurt sat against the foot of his bed trying to find an appropriate song.

Puck, too lazy to get up, crawled along the top of Kurt’s enormous four-poster bed and plopped himself on his stomach so his head was lolling over the end, his chin nearly resting on Kurt’s shoulder, his breath sending chills down Kurt’s spine as it hit his ear. Reaching around Kurt’s shoulder he continued flipping the albums when Kurt stopped, his arm brushing across Kurt’s neck as he looked. 

“What about this one?” he asked, pulling a record out from the crate.

“That’s the, um, _Moulin Rouge_ soundtrack,” Kurt gulped, finding it increasingly difficult to form coherent thoughts when Puck was so close to his ear. “It’s surprisingly appropriate for this competition.”

“Lady Marmalade’?” Puck asked, eyeing the track listing. “Is it about jelly?”

“Not that one,” Kurt huffed. Stiff backed, trying as much as possible to reduce skin-to-skin contact with Puck and avoid looking at him if at all possible, he took the CD from his hands, opened up the case and inserted it into the player. Soon enough the sounds of Nicole Kidman and Ewan McGregor’s voices filled the room. He resumed his spot at the foot of the bed because even though he wanted to avoid having Puck touch him because he was afraid of losing control, it didn’t mean he didn’t want to be nearer to the mohawked boy again.

“What is this one called?” Puck asked.

“’Elephant Love Medley’. It’s basically a lyrical mash-up of a bunch of different love songs.” It took all of Kurt’s self-control not to choke on his words as he felt Puck inching closer towards the back of his head. 

“Yeah, I noticed a lot of different songs in this one. I like it.” Every word sent a breath onto the back of Kurt’s neck, making his skin erupt in goosebumps. 

“I think we could put a different spin on it,” Kurt suggested, trying desperately not to look back towards Puck.

“Sounds nice,” Puck said. His voice was closer to Kurt’s ear than the brunette remembered.

Kurt summed up all the courage in his skinny little body and turned around, coming face-to-face with Puck. The two stared at each other for a few seconds, their eyes locking, each afraid to look away. Before he could stop himself he was leaning forwards toward Puck, his eyes now beholding the plump fullness of Puck’s lips. He wanted to kiss him, wanted to feel the warmth of his lips, wanted to feel his skin on his. Kurt had never wanted anything more in his life.

When he was an inch away from Puck’s face, when he could feel the breath from his parted lips on his own, Puck pulled away. He jumped off the bed, made a hasty excuse about his being late to pick-up his little sister, and was out the door before Kurt could protest. He heard the door slam from his room, and heard the squeal of Puck’s tires as his truck pealed out of the driveway. 

Kurt’s eyes watered as he lay back on his bed. Did he really come this close to kissing Noah Puckerman? And did Puck really run away as if Kurt were an incubator of the bubonic plague, as if Kurt wanted to suck his blood instead of simply feeling Puck’s lips pressed against his?

Kurt’s eyes brimmed over with tears as he stared at the ceiling and absent-mindedly twirled his hair in his fingers. He was stupid to believe Puck would kiss him. Puck had made no move towards Kurt. He simply sat there as Kurt, like an idiot, moved towards him, too overcome with lust for his mind to process that it wasn’t longing in Puck’s eyes, but disgust. 

To Puck, Kurt was disgusting. 

It should have killed Kurt’s crush on Puck, should have made him hate the mohawked boy that much more, but it didn’t. He still found himself thinking of Puck, and now that  
he’d just been so close to his face he couldn’t stop picturing his moist lips, his strong nose, his eyebrows (that needed severe plucking), his dimples, his eyes. He couldn’t stop thinking of Puck, and it didn’t bring about the tingly, pterodactyls-in-your-stomach feelings it used to. Instead it made his heart ache. 

He shut his eyes, wishing earnestly that he didn’t have glee club practice the next day and would have to face Puck. He reached for his phone and called Rachel. He would have called Mercedes but he knew she was busy with Brittany. As much as Rachel annoyed him he needed a distraction from what had just happened, even if it meant sitting through a four hour Barbara Streisand retrospective with Rachel’s distracting commentary.

While Kurt wanted nothing more than to forget what had just happened between him and Puck, what he couldn’t know was that twelve blocks away and going nearly 50 miles an hour Noah Puckerman wanted nothing more than to turn around and complete the kiss that Kurt had failed to deliver.


	2. There Must Be Something There That Wasn't There Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when he was out, he gets pulled back in. Or the chapter where more things almost happen but they don't.

The next day during lunch Kurt sought out Mr. Schuester and tried to get out of doing the duet with Puck. Instead he was brutally rebuffed. 

“Look, Kurt, I know you and Puck have different styles of singing and he may not have been your first choice for a duet partner.” Or second or third or millionth, thought Kurt. “But I’m afraid you’re going to have to make the best of it. Besides, getting out of your comfort zone is what this assignment is all about. You think Santana and Rachel are happy about singing together? And you saw the look on Finn’s face when he realized he’d be singing a love song with Artie.” Kurt chuckled as he remembered. “That’s what I want from you guys this week. To feel a little afraid. Sometimes you’re going to have to do things you’d rather not, but once you get over them you realize it was no big deal. Can you handle that?” 

“I suppose,” Kurt mumbled. 

“Good. So you’ll duet with Puck. And no bailing out and going at it alone like you did with Sam. This is a strictly two-person project.”

“Understood. I guess I’ll see you in glee club,” Kurt said, defeated. 

“See you then,” Mr. Schue waved. Before Kurt left he said, “And Kurt. If it makes you feel any better Puck said that he couldn’t have asked for a better partner.” 

Kurt turned on his heel and raised his eyebrow. “He said that? When?”

“I saw him during second period when he got called in to Principal Figgins’ office.”

“He didn’t get expelled, did he?” Kurt asked with the slightest bit of hope.

“No, it wasn’t that serious” Mr. Schue said, grinning as he knew exactly what Kurt was thinking. “He would have gotten one day’s suspension, but I was able to talk Figgins   
into two day’s detention,” Mr. Schue said confidently. Damn Mr. Schue and his caring for the wellbeing of his students, thought Kurt. 

“What did he do?” Kurt inquired. 

“His Home Economics teacher caught him deep frying one of the frogs meant for dissection in Biology,” Mr. Schue chuckled. “I sure hope his singing career takes off because I can’t really see him as a chef.”

“Me neither,” Kurt agreed. 

Kurt bade goodbye to his teacher and couldn’t help but groan as he walked out of Mr. Schue’s office. Did he really have the fried-frog boy as his partner?

Speak of the devil. 

While making his way to the cafeteria Kurt rounded a corner and slammed into Puck. The two collided and Puck nearly knocked the smaller boy onto his behind but was able to catch him by the arms before he fell. 

“Whoops! Wouldn’t want to go breaking my chance at unlimited chips and salsa at Burritos,” Puck said, helping Kurt regain his balance. 

“Thanks,” Kurt said. He brushed imaginary dust off his tweed Burberry jacket, afraid to meet Puck’s eyes. “I’ll see you in glee,” he said, rushing around Puck to get to the cafeteria. 

Normally Puck would have let him go, eager to be rid of someone who caused him so much anxiety, but he grabbed Kurt by the arm and said, “Not so fast, Hummel. Can we talk?” He pulled him into the nearest empty classroom, getting Kurt’s full attention. 

“That depends.” He twisted his arm out of Puck’s grip. “Is your sister going to need to be picked-up in the next twenty seconds?” Kurt asked, a bit of ice frosting his words. 

“Okay, I deserve that. I was a bit of a douche yesterday,” Puck conceded, sitting on one of the desktops. 

“It’s fine,” Kurt said, rolling his eyes and focusing on something else across the room. He crossed his arms, afraid to let Puck see he was getting to him. They were alone again, together, and though the hurt and embarrassment of yesterday was still fresh in Kurt’s mind he couldn’t help but feel excitement at being alone again with Puck. 

“It’s not fine,” Puck argued. “I shouldn’t have rushed out like that. I’m sorry.”

“I should be the one apologizing,” Kurt said, realizing he was going to have to work with Puck whether he liked it or not. “I don’t know what came over me. I know you’re not ga…I guess I was just lone…there’s no excuse. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” He was too embarrassed to bring up the reasons for what happened. Saying them out loud meant saying he liked Puck. He couldn’t risk that. Instead, the best he could do was apologize and hope he accepted it. He stood tall, regaining his composure. “Whatever we do from now on will be strictly professional. We can meet in public places, if you prefer, or I could have Finn around so you won’t be so uncomfortable anymore – “ 

“Calm down there, Hummel.” Puck chuckled. “It’s okay. I’m not afraid you’re gonna jump my bones or something if we’re alone together.”

“You’re…not?” Kurt asked timidly.

Puck grinned. He rolled his sleeves up and flexed his bicep. “Look at these guns. Do you really think you could take me?” 

“As if I would want to ‘take you’, Puckerman. Besides, it’s not like I’m some weakling. I beat Finn at arm-wrestling last week,” Kurt said triumphantly. 

“He told me you distracted him with Oreos,” Puck laughed. 

“Yeah, well, I could beat you up if I wanted,” Kurt said defiantly, his hand on his hip. “Not that I would, but I could.”

“Oh yeah?” Puck said, smiling widely. He got up and took a hold of Kurt’s arm, rubbing his bicep through his sleeve. “With this tree branch? What are you going to, give me a splinter?” he teased. 

Kurt snatched his arm from Puck’s grip. “I could have you on this floor begging for your life,” he said smiling, pressing his finger into Puck’s chest. 

Puck loomed tall over the smaller boy. “Oh is that so?” he said, walking forward, forcing Kurt backwards into a wall. He tried his best to hold back his laughter but a few snickers escaped. “I’m waiting,” he said, his face pulling closer to Kurt’s. 

“Well I can’t do it now,” Kurt stuttered, feeling Puck’s body heat on him. “This jacket is new. It might get dirty.” 

“So take it off,” Puck said, running his fingers up Kurt’s arms. Kurt suddenly found it hard to breathe. What was Puck doing? Wasn’t he the one who ran away from Kurt yesterday? Didn’t he find Kurt disgusting? But the way he was eyeing Kurt, the way he was undressing him with his eyes, the way he was feeling him up, the way his erection was pressing into Kurt’s thigh; those weren’t signs of disgust. Was Kurt wrong about what happened yesterday? Could Puck…like him?

“Noah,” Kurt said unsurely. Their eyes met and each found it hard to pull their gazes away. Puck wanted to explore the rest of Kurt’s body but his eyes stayed glued to Kurt’s. There was something pulling him in to Kurt, some inexplicable force that wanted the two to bet together. He found himself leaning, closer and closer, drawing nearer to Kurt’s face, his lips leading the way. 

Ring, ring, ring!

The school bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Kurt waited for Puck to pull away, for him to run and leave him alone and confused like he had the night before. Instead, he stayed. He made no effort to move. 

“I guess we better get to class,” Puck suggested. His breath was so close to Kurt’s face that it sent chills up the brunette boy’s spine. “People will be here any minute.” Still he didn’t budge from where he stood. 

“Yeah. We should go,” Kurt said. He too made no effort to move away from Puck. Their gazes were still locked together, each afraid to leave the other behind. 

Hearing the distant footsteps in the halls they each moved away at the same time. They got their things together and made to leave the room. 

“So I guess I’ll see you in glee this afternoon,” Kurt said, adjusting the strap on his messenger bag.

“Yeah. And maybe we can go to your house later and work on our performance?” Puck suggested. Kurt beamed. Puck wanted to come over again. 

“Yeah, we could do that,” Kurt said, biting back a smile. 

“Okay.” Puck tried his best to hide his apprehension but he failed miserably. When he was near Kurt, when he was close and could feel the beating of Kurt’s heart and the rise and fall of his breath, he wasn’t nervous. All he could focus on was Kurt and the beauty that lie in his face. But now that they were apart Puck’s head swirled again with questions, unanswerable yet unwilling to be ignored. “I’ll see you then,” he agreed. 

Puck cuffed Kurt on the shoulder as he did with all his male friends when saying goodbye. But now he found his hand lingering on Kurt, relishing the warmth the smaller boy afforded him. Kurt felt Puck’s hand linger, too. They stayed that way a few seconds longer than necessary, and only broke apart when the door to the classroom opened and students began to file in. They moved into the hall, walking in opposite directions to their respective classes. 

“See you later,” Puck said. 

“Okay,” Kurt said, waving frantically while walking backward to his next class, “later!” Realizing he was waving he brought his hand down. Get it together Hummel, he mentally scolded himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will have you know I never post filler. Except sometimes I post entire chapters where nothing happens and they talk the whole time. Sort of like a walkabout on The West Wing. You think they're going somewhere and they end up back in the Oval Office.   
> But yeah, no filler. Every chapter has something important. To me at least.   
> The more you know (cue shooting star).


	3. Chapter 3

“Okay guys, remember the steps. One, two, step left. Now one, two, step right,” Mr. Schue shouted above the band, calling out the choreography. 

“Noah, you have to pick your foot up, don’t just slide it,” Kurt chastised. He was standing next to the mohawked boy, his hands on his hips, trying to help him with his dance moves. Puck couldn’t help but smile.

“Ow! I swear to God, Jolly Green Giant, if you step on my foot one more time I’m going to take an axe and chop you down!” Santana rubbed her foot as she glared daggers at Finn, who was recoiling somewhat at his mistake.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it,” he said, confused as to how his feet never seemed to do his bidding and instead moved of its own accord. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Ease off Finn, alright San?” Quinn held up her hand as if it were enough to stop the wrath of Santana.

“Tell your boyfriend to keep his giant clown feet in check!” Santana yelled. Rachel’s eyes were downcast at the mention of Finn as Quinn’s boyfriend.

“Don’t talk about clownish boyfriends, Santana, because your boyfriend’s lips look like they belong under the big top in Ringling Brothers,” Quinn shot back.

“Hey!” Sam shouted, glaring at Quinn. “How did I get dragged into this?”

“Dude! Don’t yell at my girlfriend!” Finn shouted back.

“Whoa! Guys! It’s been a long day. Maybe we should just all go home and we’ll pick up where we left off tomorrow,” Mr. Schue suggested. 

The glee club couldn’t help but agree. They dispersed, Santana glaring at Finn and Quinn while they all made their way to the parking lot. 

Kurt walked arm-in-arm with Mercedes, ignoring the constant drama associated with glee, choosing instead to discuss the new line of moisturizers from Clinique when they approached her car and bid each other goodbye. Kurt got into his Navigator and was buckling in when Puck scared him through the open window. 

“Aarrgh!” he roared, grabbing Kurt’s jacket through the window, making the boy shriek. Puck laughed while Kurt glowered at him. “So, I’ll meet you at your house?” he said, doing his best to hold back his laughter. 

“I don’t think you’re welcome there anymore,” Kurt said icily. He flicked his bangs back, checking the damage his recent scare did to his hair in the mirror. 

“Oh, come on Hummel,” Puck said. “Learn to take a joke!” He was leaning on the car window, curling his lower lip and making hurt puppy noises.

“I’m not falling for it, Noah,” Kurt said, staring straight ahead and not focusing on Puck. “Not gonna happen.” Puck kept the act up, puppy noises and all. “Ugh! Stop being so adorable!” Kurt laughed. 

“Like I can help that,” Puck said, leaning in and brushing the bangs from Kurt’s face. “Besides, I was going more for badass,” he whispered.

“Well can I just say: the high pitched whimpering? Very badass,” Kurt whispered back. 

“So, am I still welcome at your house?” Puck asked.

“As much as you ever were,” Kurt responded, tweaking Puck’s nose between his fingers. The mohawked boy frowned. 

“Dude, I’ve killed people for less than that,” he mock-threatened, making Kurt smile.

“If you plan on killing me at least wait until this year’s fall line comes out. I want to see if paisley makes a comeback.” Puck shot him a questioning look. 

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Just be there by five-thirty. Carole’s making spaghetti and if you want any before Finn inhales it all you have to get there early.”

“Spaghetti?” He asked excitedly. “I fucking love her spaghetti!”

“I always knew you liked wet, meaty balls in your mouth,” Kurt teased.

Puck leaned in and whispered, “You’re on thin ice, Hummel.” Kurt stuck his tongue out, making Puck laugh.

“How bout I just follow you to your house from here?” Puck suggested.

“Sounds great,” Kurt said. 

“Meet you there,” Puck yelled as he hurriedly ran to his truck. 

Kurt couldn’t help but laugh to himself as he started his car. Finn jumped in the front seat and looked bemusedly at his brother.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, wanting to be in on the joke.

“Nothing,” Kurt said as he rolled out of the parking lot.

It was different alone in the room. The teasing and flirting between Kurt and Puck was different in the day; they seemed to be egging each other on, forcing them to show   
their hand and admit they at least felt something for each other. But when they were alone, there was nowhere to hide. No distractions, no one to interrupt and keep them from saying whatever was on their mind. If they wanted to they could have discussed Puck’s sudden change in demeanor towards Kurt, or Kurt’s long-simmering crush on Noah. But they didn’t. They, being boys, decided to push all that to the background. They focused, instead, on the more pressing matter of winning the same-sex love song duet. They figured they could deal with their feelings and stuff later. 

“See, look,” Kurt began. “Left hand outstretched, than right foot forward, hip-shake, hip-shake, and finish with a twirl!” Kurt finished with a smile.

Puck looked at him from his bed, his head lolled back and his mouth open. “That looks…complicated.”

“No, it couldn’t be easier. In fact it’s a simplification of a pas de deux I saw on _Black Swan_."

“Pot duh what?” Puck asked, stumped.

“Just, come on. I can show you,” Kurt offered, holding his hands out ready to dance with Puck.

Puck tiredly rolled over onto his back on Kurt’s bed. “Can’t we just practice our vocals again?” 

“We’ve already got them down,” Kurt said. “We have to practice our choreography. You can’t hide behind your guitar for every number you perform, Noah.”

“I don’t hide behind my guitar,” Puck said, getting off the bed and standing next to Kurt. “I can dance like I’m fucking on the stage. Just show me where to step and I can soak   
every panty in that choir room.”

“First of all, I never want to hear those words coming from your mouth again,” Kurt said. “Okay, stand over here,” Kurt said. Puck took his place and Kurt directed him through the dance. The mohawked boy was somewhat competent at his dance moves but nowhere up to Kurt’s standards.

“No, Noah. You’re still a half second late on all your moves. Step like this,” Kurt showed. Puck tried the complicated move. “No, look. One more time.” Kurt said huffily. Again he executed the step. Puck tried his hand at the dance move one more time but failed to do it as perfectly as Kurt.

“There’s no way we’re going to win if you keep being such a – Finn!” Kurt nearly yelled, exasperated. 

“I heard that!” Finn yelled back from downstairs where he and Artie were practicing their number. 

“Stop spying on us Finn!” Kurt yelled down from his doorway.

“You can quit now, you know! There’s no shame in forfeiting!” Artie yelled back from downstairs. 

“Just a heads up Artie, after we win you’re going to have to give Finn a ride to the nurse’s office so she can heal his broken pride!” Puck yelled back at them.

“Dude, you guys aren’t even going to win!” Finn yelled. “Our number is, like, unbeatable! It won a Tony Roma award!”

“For the last time Finn, _Tony Roma’s_ is a restaurant and the _Tony’s_ are awards given for outstanding Broadway performances!” Kurt yelled excitedly. “That just proves –.”

“– HEY! Enough yelling!” Burt thundered from the hallway. “Do you have any idea what time it is? Some of us have work in the morning.” He stuck his head in Kurt’s room,   
eyeing Puck unsurely. “Have you two been up here alone this whole time?”

“Yeah, we were just rehearsing,” Kurt said innocently.

“Puck, don’t you think it’s about time you headed home?” Burt said.

“Yeah, right. I was just about to go,” Puck said hurriedly, packing his things up and getting ready to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow at school,” Puck said to Kurt. “Thanks for dinner, Mr. H.” He rushed past Burt and thundered downstairs.

“Dad, I know what you’re thinking and we were not doing anything illicit,” Kurt said.

“I know. I just…God, I just don’t trust that Puckerman kid,” Burt said. 

“He’s not a criminal, Dad. He’s on probation,” Kurt said, patting his father on the belly as he walked around him to the stairs. Burt stared as his son descended the stairs, mouth open in shock. 

“Hey, Wheels. You need a ride home?” Puck asked Artie. 

“That’d be great. Thanks,” Artie replied. 

“Noah, could I talk to you for a minute?” Kurt asked.

“Here, I’ll help you out to the truck,” Finn offered Artie, leaving the two boys alone. “I guess you two need all the extra practice you can get,” Finn teased as he wheeled Artie   
out the front door.

Hearing the door close Kurt turned to Puck. “Sorry about my dad, he’s just – really protective of me.”

“He’s not that bad. I’ve dealt with worse fathers before,” Puck said. 

“I should warn you that he is a card carrying member of the NRA and, because of the strict diet he’s been under after his heart attack, he’s pretty ornery,” Kurt said. 

“Noted,” Puck said with a smile. The two stood awkwardly in front of each other, the silence stretching between them. Kurt was unsure what to do with his hands and kept   
hugging himself tighter, while Puck’s usual confidence seemed to dissipate when near Kurt.

“Umm, yeah. I’d better go –,” Puck began, but he stopped when Kurt lunged forward and kissed him.

He didn’t know why he did it. Puck didn’t give him any signal that he’d wanted a kiss. It was just, the silence was deafening, and being so close to Puck all night had made   
Kurt want nothing more than to feel his lips on his. He couldn’t explain why he did it; all he knew was he wanted it and if he died he’d die knowing he kissed the one boy he’d   
wanted to kiss since high school began.

Pulling back from the kiss Kurt looked for any sign of anger or disgust on Puck’s face. Instead he saw Puck’s eyes were closed, his mouth still puckered and a smile creeping   
across his lips. 

“What was that for?” Puck asked, still smiling.

“I…don’t know.” Kurt was blushing furiously and avoided Puck’s gaze. “Pretend it never happened,” he begged, trying to shake the embarrassment from his voice.

“I guess I could,” Puck began. He jerked Kurt forward, pulling him close to his body. Looking down he realized how much he really might come to care for another guy, and   
as much as it scared him all he wanted at that moment was a kiss. “But a kiss like that is hard to forget.”

Kurt raised his eyes to meet Puck’s. If it was possible he blushed even harder. Puck leaned down and planted a kiss on Kurt’s lips. Kurt relished the warmth Puck’s mouth leant to his. He caressed Puck’s cheek and held him in place while the taller boy delicately pushed his tongue into his mouth. Kurt nearly melted on the spot.

The front door burst open and Finn strode in, coming to a halt as he saw Puck and Kurt together. Puck reacted quickly and pushed Kurt away, sending him flying to the couch with an “Oomph!” Finn stood in the doorway, looking questioningly from Puck to Kurt. Kurt sat on the couch, crossing his legs and flicking his bangs back. Puck stood in the corner, leaning on the wall and trying to look as casual as possible. 

“Umm, Artie’s waiting for you, dude,” Finn said. Puck walked out the door without acknowledging Kurt, the heavy glare of Finn weighing him down. 

“Did Puck, like, try to come on to you or something?” Finn asked Kurt. 

“No,” Kurt said immediately. “We were just practicing for the duet.” He hoped his brother’s stupidity convinced him of this.

“Are you sure? It looked like you two were…” 

“Like I said, we were practicing,” Kurt said with finality. He stared straight into Finn’s eyes, hoping his direct eye-contact would prove his innocence. “If we fooled you into thinking it was otherwise than looks like we’ve got the competition in the bag.” He bit his lip and turned his back, unable to continue staring at his brother while spinning such an outright lie. 

“Dude, I knew you guys were faking,” Finn said with a grin. He ruffled his little brother’s hair before departing for the kitchen to look for something to eat. “You weren’t even that believable. That dinner is totally mine and Artie’s.”

“Uh-huh,” Kurt agreed from the couch. He was glad Finn bought the lie. When he let out a sigh of relief he felt a little bruised around his chest from where Puck had pushed him. He understood Puck’s fear of being seen with a boy, especially with the close-minded bigots in this armpit of a town. What Kurt didn’t understand was the feeling deep in his gut that, though Puck may never get over that fear, he didn’t care. He didn’t care if anyone ever found out about them. All he wanted was Puck; screw the rest of the world. He just hoped Puck felt the same way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They kissed! Ugh, it can only go downhill from here.


	4. Back to Reality

Kurt couldn’t wait for school the next day. It was a bit odd for him, as he’d never really cared for school, what with the constant slushie attacks and dumpster dives. But his kiss last night with Puck seemed to push all the crappy reasons he hated going into the back of his mind and all he could think about was seeing Puck and maybe possible kissing him again. 

He was up before his alarm went off and finished getting ready before Finn was even done with his first plate of bacon and eggs, which was a record for them both. By the time Finn had started on his third plate of pancakes Kurt was getting anxious and threatened to shove the entire plate of sausages into his face if they didn’t leave soon. Finn, who wasn’t yet done but didn’t want to begin the day with a face full of greasy pork fat, decided to skip his usual fourth helping of breakfast and get going. He only hoped he could make it through their first two periods without collapsing from starvation. Kurt honked the horn from the passenger seat, as it was Finn’s turn to drive, and told him to hurry up and get them to school. 

“Dude, we still have like, forty minutes before first period starts,” Finn huffed. “Why are you in such a hurry to get to school?”

Kurt checked his appearance in the mirror and looked to his brother. “I just don’t want to be late today, okay?” He knew he wasn’t exactly being subtle about his eagerness to get to school but he didn’t really care. The only thing he could think about was Puck.

“Can you hurry up please?” Kurt snapped when he caught Finn fiddling with the seat belt. The awkward teen began coughing and Kurt realized he had somehow tangled the strap with the zipper on his vest, choking himself. Kurt reached over and helped untangle Finn before giving him a quick flick to his forehead. 

“You’re mean in the mornings,” Finn pouted, rubbing his forehead before pulling out of their driveway and making their way to school. 

**glee**

Once they were at school Kurt breezed past the bullies, knowing as long as he was with Finn they wouldn’t cause him any bodily harm, though it might not save him or his tall brother from possible slushie attacks later. When he finally shook Finn off, suggesting he look for Quinn, Kurt stalked the halls looking for Puck. He dodged Rachel, who looked particularly flustered this morning, by ducking behind Lauren Zizes and would have said hi to Mercedes and Tina but they were heading upstairs and Kurt knew for a fact Puck had first period downstairs (in a completely non-stalkerish way). He thought he saw Puck disappear into a classroom and was going to investigate when out of nowhere Sam and Mike flanked him, walking with him down the east wing of the school. 

“What’s up, Kurt?” Mike greeted, his green flannel shirt billowing as he walked.

“How’s the duet coming along?” Sam asked. “Puckerman being a bigger pain in the ass than usual?”

Frustrated at the possibility of not being able to find Puck before classes began, Kurt nonetheless smiled warmly at his two friends and walked to his locker, joining them in conversation. “It’s going fabulously. Noah has actually been surprisingly tolerable and I’ve only seriously considered carrying out a murder-suicide once our entire partnership.” Kurt figured lying was the best way to throw off the scent of any of their fellow glee clubbers, especially if Finn opens his mouth about what he saw last night and someone else actually figures out what the gangly teen couldn’t. 

“Sounds promising,” Mike nodded. “But, I hate to break it to you, Kurt, but me and Sam are totally going to get that free trip to Burrito’s.”

“He speaks the truth,” Sam agreed from Kurt’s left. “With Mike’s killer moves and my undeniable sex appeal,” he said with a flick of his head and a sweep of his bangs, “we’re unbeatable.”

“‘Sex appeal?” Kurt asked incredulously. He pulled out his books and deposited his notebook in his locker before turning to Sam. “And to whom are you trying to appeal to? Are you going to be thinking of Coach Bieste when you perform or have you found someone new to lust after?” At this Mike let out a loud snicker while Sam blushed a deep pink.

“You heard about that?” Sam asked ashamed. 

“Finn is very loose-lipped, especially when you ply him with warm milk and cookies before his bedtime,” Kurt confided with a smile. Sam avoided making eye contact, looking down and focusing instead on his shoes rather than his friends.

Checking his watch Mike announced he was going to look for Tina before class started, leaving Sam and Kurt alone. 

“So, what song are you guys doing?” Sam asked once he regained his composure.

“Nice try, Samuel, but you’re going to have to work a bit harder on your espionage skills if you think I’m going to divulge our performance secrets so easily,” Kurt said.

“Aw, and my counselor said with my test scores the CIA was the only place I’d get hired. Looks like I’ll have to go with my fall-back career.”

Kurt smiled in amusement. “And what would that be?” 

“Super ninja,” Sam deadpanned. 

“Oh, well I hear they’re very in demand, especially with the state of the world and all,” Kurt said. “And the perks of traveling and meeting new people completely outweigh the negatives of possible decapitation and having to wear the same black outfit everyday.”

“Totally,” Sam agreed with a wide smile. “Plus there’s the whole ‘being your own boss’ thing, which is always good.”

“Absolutely. So, Sam,” Kurt said, returning to reality, “what song are you planning on doing with Mike?” 

“Well, I guess it’s okay to tell you,” Sam said. 

“Really?” Kurt asked. “That simple, huh? I gotta tell you, Evans, you can pretty much kiss that CIA career goodbye if you’re this freewheeling with all your secrets.”

“Oh trust me, I’ve got plenty of secrets aside from this one,” Sam assured him. Seeing the questioning look Kurt shot him he added, “But you pretty much figured out the  
biggest one.” Kurt arched his eyebrow as Sam finished with a whisper, “The hair-dye thing.”

“Ah, yes. Lemon-gate,” Kurt said. “So, what song are you going to grace us with in glee?”

“We were going to do ‘Like We Never Loved at All’ by Faith Hill and Tim McGraw but…it’s…” Sam was having trouble finding the words to explain.

“It’s not really a love song?” Kurt offered. “It’s more of a ‘lost-love’ song?” 

“Well that, yeah,” Sam began. “But it was also the song I was planning on doing with you. You know, for the last duet competition.” 

Now it was Kurt’s turn to look away embarrassed. Kurt remembered how excited he’d been for the competition, but how after receiving a talking down from Finn he’d left  
Sam and gone solo. He figured it was for the best: after all, they’d won the contest and Sam hooked up with Quinn afterwards, even if they weren’t together anymore now. He didn’t think Sam even though about that anymore.

“I never really apologized for that, did I?” Sam asked. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one that left you. It was nobody’s fault. Well, maybe Finn’s, but he meant well so…” Kurt finished awkwardly. 

“Yeah, well, seeing how things turned out, if I could go back I’d totally do that duet with you,” Sam said. Kurt smiled at him, making the blond boy blush.

“Tell you what,” Kurt said. “Next time we have a duet competition, and seeing how Schue’s been recycling old lesson plans it might be pretty soon, you and I partner up again.”

“Promise you won’t back out?” Sam asked with a smirk.

“I swear on my limited edition H &M Madonna-designed black pea coat with original stressed leather pockets and pewter monogrammed buttons,” Kurt said with a smile. Seeing Sam’s puzzled expression he clarified, “I promise.” 

Hearing the bell ring the two headed off for class, each turning over the other’s behavior during their conversation in their head. 

**glee**

Kurt strutted to lunch with Tina and Mercedes on each side, the three walking to their usual table which was currently occupied by Artie, Rachel, Mike, and Brittany. The trio had barely arrived at the table when Kurt spotted Puck across the room. Without sitting down he dropped his tray off and announced he’d be back, earning confused looks from the rest of the table.

“What was that all about?” Rachel asked. “He didn’t even sit down.”

“Maybe his tampon was hurting him and he had to go to the restroom to fix it,” Brittany said airily. The others looked around the table, wondering who was going to set her straight this time.

“Brittany, sweetie, Kurt is a boy. He doesn’t need a tampon,” Mercedes said gently. 

“Well, he only needs one because he has one hole,” Brittany corrected. “Us girls need two.”

Tina stared at her with her mouth open wide while Rachel looked at her through squinted eyes. Mercedes curled her lips in confusion, Mike scratched his head, and Artie gently rubbed her back. “I think you need another meeting with Mrs. Pillsbury concerning basic biology,” he told her softly. Brittany simply stared at her friends glassy-eyed,  
wondering why they all had stopped eating. 

Across the room Kurt was approaching Puck, smiling in spite of himself. He took a seat across from Puck at the empty table, whispering conspiratorially in case they were overheard. 

“Hey,” Kurt greeted. Once the word fell from his lips he realized how incredibly stupid it sounded. 

Puck looked at him skeptically, wondering why he was at his table. “Hey.”

“You didn’t answer any of my texts last night,” Kurt said. “You don’t have to worry about Finn or anything, I told him we were just practicing for our duet and he bought it. All  
I can say is “Yay!” to whoever dropped him when he was an infant.” He was talking a mile a minute and he couldn’t stop himself. Puck looked at him questioningly, and fearing a  
rebuff Kurt soldiered on. “So, do you want to come to my house again tonight to practice?” Kurt asked hopefully. He wasn’t normally one to put it all out there like that, but he knew Puck liked him too so his confidence coupled with the sudden increase in serotonin to his brain upon seeing Puck was having an inebriating effect on him. 

Before Puck could respond five large shadows eclipsed them both, sending an ominous chill down Kurt’s spine. Above him Azimio, Karofsky, and three other non-descript jocks glared down on the two gleeks. 

“What’s up homo? Get lost on your way to Anal Mountain?” Karofsky teased. 

“Yeah, Puck, what’s with the fancy boy? You turning soft on us?” Azimio arched his brow at Puck, wondering if being in glee had bent the boy’s sexual orientation. 

“Leave him alone, guys,” Puck said, though not too convincingly. “Hummel’s not bothering you.”

“No, see that’s where you’re wrong,” Karofsky said, leaning on the table towards Kurt. “He does bother me. Just by existing he bothers me. Having to see him everyday, wondering what he’s thinking, what he could be planning the next time he catches me alone in the showers. That bothers me.” 

“And now, seeing you together, I’m wondering if you’re starting to bother us, too,” Azimio chided in, gesturing towards Puck. 

“As if either of you have anything to worry about,” Kurt snapped. He stood, meeting them both at shoulder height but still somehow staring the bullies down. “I don’t  
consider either of you appealing. And the only thing that will be running through my mind should I be unfortunate enough to catch either of you in the shower would be the  
possibility of shooting a sequel to Titanic on your wide loads.”

“Did he just call us fat?” Azimio asked out loud. 

“Oh please,” Kurt scoffed. “That would be an insult to fat people. You two are knuckle-dragging, tree humping, ass-brained ignoramuses who are too scared of anyone and anything that may be different from you to actually function. Well I have news for you. There’s a big world out there, and once you realize there are people better, faster, smarter, bigger, stronger, more fabulous than either of you can comprehend you’ll be so scared, that no threat or punch can –.” Kurt was cut off from his speech by a bright red slushie being thrown at his face by one of the other jocks behind Karofsky. 

“Sorry, fag, but someone had to shut you up,” Karofsky laughed. He hi-fived Azimio, who was holding an empty slushie cup. Looking across the table Kurt saw Puck was also covered in slushie. Wiping the sticky substance from his eyes Kurt was about to begin another speech when he felt Puck’s strong arms rushing him out of the cafeteria and into the nearest bathroom. 

“Homphobic assholes!” Kurt screamed, slamming his fist on the countertop. He splashed his face with water and fought the urge to punch the mirror in front of him. 

“Calm down, Hummel,” Puck said, trying his best to assuage Kurt’s anger. “It could have been worse.”

“We just got slushied in front of half of the entire school. How could it have been worse?” Kurt snapped.

“At least it was only a slushie,” Puck said, wiping his face with a wet paper towel. “If there weren’t so many witnesses they could have beat you up. Me too, seeing as there  
were five of them and only two of us.”

“We could have taken them,” Kurt sighed, splashing his face again. Puck laughed, moving next to Kurt and eyeing himself in the mirror, making sure he got all of the slushie off his face. “Something funny?” Kurt asked.

“We wouldn’t have had to ‘take them’ if you would have just stayed at your table,” Puck said. Kurt stood up straight and looked directly into Puck’s eyes. 

“What?” Kurt asked, hoping it wasn’t what he thought. 

“You had no business going to the jock table,” Puck said, scrubbing his cheek. “You could have got us both in a lot more trouble.” 

“Why, because you’d be seen with the resident fairy?” Kurt asked. 

“Yeah,” Puck said without a second thought. Seeing Kurt’s face he clarified, “You know what I mean. We’ve never hung out before, we didn’t even talk in glee club until recently. You can’t give these guys anymore reason to talk about us than they already do,” Puck sighed. 

“Let them talk. They’ve been talking since I walked into kindergarten with a pink bowtie and a Spice Girls lunchbox. I don’t care anymore!” Kurt nearly screamed. 

“Well I do,” Puck said. He ran his fingers through his mohawk, brushing off any bits of ice that might have gotten caught in his hair. “I’ve got a reputation, Kurt. And it’s hard enough being the resident badass without being in glee and hanging out with guys like you.”

“Guys like me?” Kurt said. He looked up at Puck with hurt in his eyes. Puck immediately regretted what he’d said. 

“Look, forget it, alright? Just…just try to be more careful next time. We’re not all like you. Not all of us want to stick out and be different. Some of us just want to get through high school while still being at the top of the food chain, without making any waves.” Puck checked himself in the mirror and when he was satisfied with his appearance he patted Kurt on the back before exiting with a hasty, “See you in glee.”

Kurt stood stunned. He didn’t expect everyone to be as brave as him, but he did expect someone as confident and assured of themselves as Noah Puckerman to fight against the system, not conform so readily. His disappointment in Puck shook him, and he wondered if he really wanted to pursue him if he couldn’t be comfortable with himself. He hated himself because deep down he knew the answer and it was something he wasn’t very comfortable knowing.


	5. Agree to Not Disagree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Italic = Santana singing_  
>  **Bold = Rachel singing**  
>  _  
>  **Bold Italic = Both singing**  
> _  
>  The song they sing is "Hate That I Love You" by Rihanna and Ne-Yo.

Santana and Rachel swayed slowly in the center of the room to the strum of the guitar, both their long tresses of black hair flowing over their shoulders. As the music started Santana began humming softly to the tune, _That’s how much I love you, That’s how much I need you before finally singing the first verse._  
And I can’t stand you.  
Must everything you do make me want to smile,  
Can I not like you for a while?

Rachel joined in, smiling at Santana despite her feelings for the Latina being anything but romantic.  
 **No, but you won’t let me.**  
You upset me girl,  
and then you kiss my lips,  
All of a sudden I forget that I was upset,  
Can’t remember what you did. 

The two joined in harmony: _**But I hate it.**_

Santana strutted around Rachel, trying to smile affectionately though it came out more devious on her lips.  
 _You know exactly what to do,_  
So that I can’t stay mad at you  
For too long, that’s wrong. 

Once again the two joined in harmony, smiling deviously at each other, each wanting to claw the others eyes out but the free dinner at Burrito’s fresh in their mind. _**But I hate it.**_

Rachel swung her hips slowly, trying to appear seductive. 

**You know exactly how to touch**  
So that I don’t want to fuss and fight no more.  
Said I despise that I adore you.

Santana jumped in to sing the chorus. As she sang Kurt couldn’t help but focus on the lyrics of the song, thinking how eerily it applied to how he felt about Puck. 

_And I hate how much I love you, boy,_  
I can’t stand how much I need you. (I need you).  
And I hate how much I love you, boy,  
But I just can’t let you go,  
And I hate that I love you so.

_And you completely know the power that you have,_  
The only one that makes me laugh.  
Sad and it’s not fair how you take advantage of the fact that I  
Love you beyond a reason why.  
And it just ain’t right. 

Rachel sang the chorus this time. Kurt looked down to Puck, wondering if the song had any effect on him. The mohawked boy looked undisturbed by the song, while the same song nearly moved Kurt to tears.

**And I hate how much I love you, girl,**  
I can’t stand how much I need you.  
And I hate how much I love you, girl,  
But I just can’t let you go,  
And I hate that I love you so. 

The two girls faced each other now, singing the next part in perfect harmony. Though they would later deny it they both appeared to be having fun, each of them basking in the limelight. Santana even let a genuine smile slip through, and didn’t flinch or smack Rachel in the face when the shorter girl put her hand on her shoulder in an affectionate gesture. 

**One of these days maybe your magic won’t affect me,**  
 _And your kiss won’t make me weak,_  
 _ **But no one in this world knows me the way you know me,  
So you’ll probably always have a spell on me, yay.**_

While Santana repeated the hook of _That’s how much I love you, that’s how much I need you_ over and over Kurt looked around at the surprised looks on the others’ face; no one had expected Santana and Rachel to pull off this duet without one or the other ending up in the hospital. While he was thinking that they could have the free dinner in the bag he was brought back to reality by Santana repeating the chorus. 

_**And I hate that I love you so.**_  
 _And I hate how much I love you boy,_  
I can’t stand how much I need you (can’t stand how much I need you),  
 _And I hate how much I love you boy, (Yeah),_  
 **But I just can’t let you go (but I just can’t let go, no),**  
And I hate that I love you so.  
And I hate that I love you so, so.

With the last harmony the girls bowed and gave each other a hi-five before Mr. Schue stood up to congratulate them on a job well done. The entire glee club cheered the usually warring ladies on, each one impressed not only with their vocals but with their civilized treatment towards each other. Kurt joined in the cheers and applause, but only half-heartedly. The song continued to tug at his mind, and he covertly dabbed at the tears that formed in the corner of his eyes, hoping no one noticed. 

“Wow! Santana, Rachel, that was amazing!” Mr. Schue gushed. He was especially happy that for once the girls were able to stand next to each other without having to drag one of them to the nurse’s office or Emma’s for an emergency anger management session. “I have to say you guys, you really have your work cut out for you because these girls brought it!”

“Mmmhmm,” Santana said, lips pursed. “And we taking it with us on our free dinner to, where’s that again Berry?”

“Oh, that’s right Lopez,” Rachel said, continuing Santana’s smack talk. ‘We’s be goin’ to Burrito’s.” She pursed her lips in an imitation of Santana which came out more comical than scary.

“Oh yeah. Me gusta mucho,” Santana said, hi-fiving Rachel before they both made their way to their seats. Before sitting down Santana snapped her fingers violently in front of Finn, scaring the boy and nearly sending him toppling off his chair. 

“Well guys, looks like that’s a wrap. We’ll continue tomorrow with our same-sex love song duets competition and not to alarm anyone but Santana and Rachel really brought the heat today, so you might want to put some last minute touch up’s on your performances!” Mr. Schue’s voice rang out over the shuffling of the glee club as they gathered their things and began to leave for home.

“There’s no shame in throwing in the towel now. It could save you all from a humiliating public defeat,” Rachel yapped as she flounced out the door, following Quinn, Finn, Tina and Mercedes as she believed them to be her biggest competition. Brittany and Santana left next, followed by Mike, who wheeled Artie out while trying to extract some information from his handicapable friend about his duet with Finn. Mr. Schue waved the straggling students goodbye, but it wasn’t until Sam clapped Kurt on the back and bid him farewell that Kurt realized he was alone in the room. He continued to take his time packing his bag, stuffing in sheet music and set lists when he felt a set of eyes boring into him from behind.

“I thought you already left,” Kurt said, knowing full well who had stayed behind to talk to him. He was met with silence before Puck finally answered him.

“I figured you’d want to talk,” Puck said awkwardly. Kurt couldn’t see him but he could picture the taller boy with his shoulders shrugged, his hands in his pockets, looking through his wide puppy dog eyes that had captured the heart and moistened the underwear of many women before him. “I saw how that song got to you.”

“So you do have a soul,” Kurt said while shoving more papers into his bag. “And here I was starting to believe all those things Finn said about you when he found out you’d been with his girlfriend.” Turning around to savor the hurt look on Puck’s face Kurt added, “The first time, not the latest.”

“I know you’re mad about what I said today,” Puck said. He wanted to walk up the steps and wrap Kurt up in his arms, but seeing the anger emanate from Kurt kept him cemented where he stood. “But you have to understand where I’m coming from.”

“I understand,” Kurt said, the fury he was feeling at the sound of Puck’s voice ebbing away, being replaced by equal parts of sadness and hurt. “I get that you have an image to uphold. And you don’t have to worry about me saying anything. My lips are sealed.”

“Dude, come on. Don’t be like that,” Puck said. 

“Please don’t call me ‘dude’.”

“Okay, Kurt,” Puck said. Even though Kurt uttered his last statement with ill intent Puck saw the anger had faded from Kurt’s face. Puck climbed the two steps separating them and stood in front of Kurt, tilting Kurt’s face up to meet his as the smaller brunette boy had avoided eye contact. “You have to know that what I said before doesn’t change how I feel about you.” 

Now that he was forced to look at Puck he stared directly into his eyes and asked, “And how do you feel about me?”

“Well, you know,” Puck began awkwardly. He shifted his weight from one foot to the g

“Seriously?” Kurt asked. The kisses were one thing, but to actually hear Puck express his feelings for Kurt made it that much harder for him to hate the boy. “Like, ‘like’ like? Or ‘like as a friend’ like?”

“Dude, don’t make me say it again,” Puck whined. Seeing Kurt’s murderous gaze fall upon him he quickly remanded, “I mean, Kurt.” Kurt dropped his gaze and toyed with the buttons on his jacket, avoiding Puck’s stare. “So, how do you feel about me?” Puck asked unsurely. 

“I guess…I guess I kinda, sorta, maybe… _likeyoutoo,”_ Kurt rushed. Puck smiled, knowing he wasn’t alone in his feelings, but once he noticed the look on Kurt’s face his smile faded. 

“There’s a ‘but’, isn’t there?” Puck asked resignedly. 

Kurt looked into Puck’s eyes and said, “But I wish I didn’t.” Kurt threw his messenger bag strap over his shoulder and bid Puck goodbye. “I should get going. I’ve given Finn an adequate amount of time to say goodbye to Quinn and he’s probably waiting for me.” He brushed past Puck, not even looking over his shoulder as he exited the choir room. 

**glee**

She pried open his cold, dead hand, extracting hers so she could reach safety. Afloat on a door in the middle of the freezing Atlantic, surrounded by thousands of dead and dying, she watched as his lifeless body bobbed pathetically in the water. Clinging to his hands, she carefully pushed him away from her makeshift raft and watched as his body began to sink under. 

“I’ll never let go, Jack,” she whimpered, kissing his frozen hand as the water engulfed him. “I promise. I’ll never let go.” She watched as his shoulders, his head, and finally his hands sank down into the ocean, the darkness enveloping him. 

“LIAR!” Kurt yelled, throwing the nearest pillow at the television set in the living room. 

“Dude, what did Titanic ever do to you?” Finn asked as he thundered down the stairs and plopped himself next to Kurt on the couch. 

“It’s love, Finn,” Kurt clarified. “I don’t have anything against Titanic, I have something against love.”

“Did Jake Gillenharp get married or something?” Finn asked.

“First of all, it’s Gyllenhaal,” Kurt corrected. “Secondly, no. He remains readily available and will in time become my third husband after Zac Efron and Taylor Lautner.”

“So what’s the problem?” Finn queried, his brow furrowed. 

“Why do we have to like people?” Kurt flustered, casually tossing the remote to Finn, barely missing his forehead. “Why can’t we just all agree to live by ourselves until we’ve reached an agreed upon age where we can just throw ourselves from a cliff and end our miserable lives,” he finished with a groan. 

“That’s really depressing,” Finn observed. 

“I’m just – why do we have to like people?” Kurt yelled. He buried his head in the couch cushions, groaning at the impossibility of life. Finn reached over and patted his brother on the back, trying to soothe him in another of his dramatic crises, which always seemed to occur whenever he watched Titanic. 

“Because it makes life less lonely?” Finn answered, though unsure himself. “I mean, think about it, dude. Imagine going through life without someone there to hold your hand or wake-up to in the morning. It’d be really peak.”

“Bleak,” Kurt corrected. 

“Yeah, that,” Finn agreed. “So, does that help with whatever you’re going through?”

“I guess,” Kurt shrugged. It really didn’t, but he couldn’t fault Finn for trying to help. “Thanks for listening. You’re a really good brother.”

“I try,” Finn smiled. “So if you’re feeling better…”

“I knew you had an ulterior motive,” Kurt sighed. “What do you need? Homework help, money, food?”

“Dude, I’m hurt! You think I only come to you when I want something?” Finn asked, nearly getting up in his righteous rage. “We’re brothers. That means you and I are together for the rest – .”

“Just, save the Full House drama, Finn,” Kurt said, raising his hand as if it blocked Finn’s words. “And tell me what you want.”

Finn quickly sat back down and asked, “Can you make me a peanut butter and banana sandwich? Ever since my mom banned me from using butter knives I’ve been using my fingers and there’s some peanut butter at the bottom I can’t reach.”

“I’ll make your sandwich and pretend I didn’t hear that,” Kurt said. 

“Awesome!” Finn yipped, clapping his brother on the back. “Can you put potato chips in the middle? I like when it’s crunchy and mushy at the same time.”

“Someday the six year old inside of you is going to crawl out from your stomach and swallow the world whole,” Kurt said once he’d broken himself from Finn’s grasp. 

“So is that a yes or no on the potato chips?” Finn asked, unfazed by Kurt’s sarcasm. 

“You can have the chips,” Kurt resigned. “But if you wake up in the middle of the night again with an upset stomach do not come looking for me to read you Harry Potter until you fall asleep.”

“Oh, so you’d just leave your brother to suffer?” Finn asked aghast. 

“If it meant I get my necessary nine hours of sleep you bet your ass I would,” Kurt said as he walked to the kitchen to make Finn’s after-dinner snack. 

**glee**

Lying in bed that night Kurt stared at the ceiling, twirling his bangs while pondering Finn’s advice (if he could call it that). He didn’t know whether he agreed with him or not. Liking people didn’t make him feel less lonely; if anything it made him feel more alone. Being gay, growing up liking other boys, had seemed to alienate him from everyone else. Now he liked someone, and that boy liked him back, but it still wasn’t enough to fill the empty space in his stomach he’d always felt since he was small. 

He didn’t need to wonder why; the boy he liked wasn’t exactly like him. Not only in the fact that Kurt liked musicals and fashion while Puck preferred ninja movies and monster trucks. It was also the fact that Puck was ashamed of who he was, while Kurt had never shied away from showing his true colors. Knowing that Puck may never be okay with himself or a relationship with another man seemed to hollow out any victory Kurt felt by finally finding someone who liked him. 

He got up from bed and shucked his clothes off, ready to turn in for the night. He reached into his closet and pulled out a fresh pair of pajamas when he spotted someone out of the vanity mirror in the corner of the room. Letting out a shriek he turned around to find Puck letting himself in through the window. 

“Wha – How did you get up here?” Kurt asked dumbfounded. He rushed to his bedroom door and made sure it was locked before turning back to Puck. 

“Pssh, please,” Puck said with a brush of his shoulders. “I’ve been climbing up trellises seeking out hot pieces of ass since I hit puberty. Nice underwear by the way,” Puck said,  
eyeing Kurt’s skintight white briefs. 

Looking down and letting out a small “Eek!” Kurt turned around and hastily threw his pajama pants on. 

“There’s no use turning around,” Puck chuckled. “Your back is just as good as your front to me. Better, in fact.”

“What are you doing here?” Kurt asked, looking around for a shirt. 

“What you said really pissed me off today, and I wanted to talk to you about it,” Puck confessed. 

“And this couldn’t wait until tomorrow because…”

“I couldn’t sleep because of what you said,” he confessed. Puck looked up at Kurt with those big, shiny brown eyes of his, his mouth somewhat downturned into a frown. “Do  
you hate me or something?”

“I don’t hate you, Noah,” Kurt assured. “I just hate that you feel that you can’t be yourself, especially when you’re in public…or with me.” Kurt felt ridiculous for saying it out loud, but once he had he was glad he let Puck know how he truly felt about their situation. 

Before he knew it Puck had enveloped him in his arms, hugging him as he softly stroked his naked back. 

“Your hands are cold,” Kurt whispered into Puck’s shoulder, afraid at how easily he melted into his embrace. “And your sweater must be a poly-cotton blend because it’s chaffing.”

Puck let go of Kurt long enough to pull his sweater and shirt off before embracing Kurt once more. “Better?” he asked. The warmth of Kurt’s skin quickly seeped onto Puck’s, warming the mohawked boy up considerably.

“Yeah, but now your nipples feel like they’re going to cut me in half,” Kurt smiled, burying his face in Puck’s shoulder. His smile quickly faded however when he realized Puck probably took his shirt off in order to distract him from how he felt. He loosened his hold on Puck and turned around to sit on his bed. 

“So now you know I don’t hate you. Is that all?” Kurt asked dismissively. 

Puck sank to his knees in front of Kurt, resting his arms on Kurt’s thighs and making sure to look directly into his eyes. Kurt’s breath hitched when he felt Puck’s close presence. When Puck hugged him it filled Kurt with security and contentment, but now with Puck looking right at him, his hands roaming and his face so close, the flashes of them kissing and the pulsing, racing, flood of blood it sent to his heart and head at the same time made Kurt dizzy with excitement. They were two very different feelings but Kurt decided he liked them both. 

“I know you don’t like what I said today after the cafeteria thing, but you know I’m right,” Puck tried to reason.

“No, I don’t,” Kurt said, the faintest trace of a tear watering his eye. “I would never hide or lie or deny who I was.”

“Guys give us so much crap already: you for being gay, me for being in glee. Would it really be worth shoving our rainbow romance in their faces if we knew they’d never let us live it down?” Puck asked. 

“It would,” Kurt countered, “to me at least.” He wiped away the tears that fell from his lashes when he blinked, asking, “It shouldn’t even matter what they think. It’s none of their business.”

“You’re right, Kurt,” Puck said, tilting Kurt’s head down to meet his gaze again, “it’s not their business. So why do we have to show all those idiots what we’ve got going on, when it’d be so much easier to keep it to ourselves?” Seeing Kurt’s resolve soften he swooped in for a kiss, dampening Kurt’s reasoning skills. “Right?” Puck asked again. 

“I suppose it doesn’t concern them,” Kurt acquiesced. 

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Puck said excitedly. He got up from his kneeling position and leaned onto Kurt, pushing the smaller boy back onto his bed. Both still shirtless, Puck continued to kiss Kurt, grinding into his body as their hormones took over. When Puck’s humping grew a bit overzealous for Kurt’s taste he was forced to remind the mohawked boy that his father was sleeping a few rooms away and as much as he was enjoying himself he didn’t want Puck to die before prom. 

“I guess I should get going,” Puck said breathlessly, still on top of Kurt. 

“No!” Kurt objected. Puck rolled off him and looked at him incredulously. 

“Do you want me to stay?” Puck asked, a devious smile playing at the corners of his lips. 

“Yes,” Kurt agreed. “I mean, just to sleep over. Nothing more,” he clarified. Hearing Puck’s silence he continued, afraid he’d made a fool of himself in the short time Puck had been over. “It’s already so late, you might as well stay over. And as long as you leave before my dad gets up, you’ll be fine. He almost never checks on me at night anymore, well, not since that time he caught me in a tiara and heels singing along to the My Fair Lady soundtrack.”

“You’re ranting, Hummel,” Puck said. He was resting his head on his hand next to Kurt, drinking in the pale boy’s sexy nervousness at the mere mention of him spending the night. 

“Sorry, I’ve been spending too much time with Rachel,” Kurt apologized. 

“I’ll spend the night,” Puck began. “I hope you don’t have a problem with me going commando.”

“These sheets are 400 thread count Egyptian cotton, Puckerman,” Kurt said. “You’ll sleep with at least underwear on and be happy I don’t force you into a hazmat suit.”

“You’re kind of sexy when you’re all bossy and shit,” Puck said, leaning over to kiss Kurt.

“Go to sleep,” Kurt said, hoping his Puck didn’t notice his blushing cheeks. “We’ve got a big day tomorrow, winning the duet competition and all.” 

Turning to go to sleep he felt Puck get out of bed and remove his pants before jumping back in next to Kurt. Kurt felt Puck distantly on the other side of the bed and, being too afraid to ask him to move closer, was ready to drift off to sleep without feeling the warmth of Puck’s embrace. Before he had completely succumbed to the darkness, however, he felt Puck’s arms wrap around him, filling him with that deep sense of security and contentment he’d felt when Puck first held him. At that time, and at that moment, he had to say he liked that more than the pulsing, racing, pounding excitement of a kiss.


	6. Guess Who's Not Going to Dinner?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Bold=Kurt singing**  
>  _Italic=Puck singing_  
>  _ **Bold and Italic=Both singing**_  
>  The song they sing is "Elephant Love Medley" from _Moulin Rouge!_

“Are you ready?” Kurt asked, his breath baited, mentally psyching himself up for their performance.

“I was born ready,” Puck said confidently. Kurt rolled his eyes at Puck’s clichéd statement. Waiting behind the curtains of the auditorium for Mr. Schue’s introduction Kurt and Puck eyed each other nervously. When they heard Mr. Schuester announce them and the curtain began to rise, he leaned over and gave Puck a quick peck on the cheek, making the mohawked boy cringe a little in discomfort. 

The curtain rose, revealing a replica of the elephant’s head used in the film _Moulin Rouge!_ With the spotlight shining on them they began their performance, the bright neon lights and red windmill whirling in the background.

_“All you need is love,”_ Puck crooned, trying to wrap his arms around Kurt.

**“A girl has got to eat,”** Kurt snapped back, moving from Puck’s embrace. 

_“All you need is love,”_ Puck sang again, blocking Kurt’s path as the countertenor descended the stairs of the elephant’s head.

**“Or she’ll end up on the street,”** Kurt retorted, descending to the main stage.

_“All you need is love,”_ Puck sang one last time, grabbing Kurt’s hands and holding them in his own.

**“Love is just a game,”** Kurt sang, twisting his hands from Puck. 

As they continued their song they moved around the stage, Kurt desperately avoiding Puck’s advances. Kurt was surprised when Puck caught him around the waist and spun him back into his arms before dipping him romantically. Kurt got to his feet and did his best to brush off Puck’s abrupt change of choreography while they prepared for the big finish.

_“We should be lovers,”_ Puck crooned, catching Kurt again. 

**“We can’t do that,”** Kurt sang sadly, ducking out of Puck’s way. 

_We should be lovers and that’s a fact._

**Though nothing would keep us together.**

_We could steal time just for one day._

_We could be heroes, **forever and ever,**_

_**We could be heroes, forever and ever,**_

_**We could be heroes,** _

_Just because I will always love you!_

**I can’t help loving you!**

_**“How wonderful life is now you’re in the world,”**_ the two finished, holding each other’s hands and staring lovingly into each other’s eyes. Only the loud cheers and applause of their friends broke them from falling deeply into each other’s eyes, and Puck, afraid at being caught so vulnerably, promptly dropped Kurt’s hands from his own and rubbed his mohawk nervously before turning away. 

“Wow! I have to say, all of you have done a great job, but Kurt and Puck! You guys had some awesome chemistry, and your performance!” Mr. Schue praised. “Seriously,   
Nationals worthy stuff guys.”

“That was really hot,” Brittany said, looking to her friend’s for agreement.

“Even I have to admit to sporting some lady wood over here,” Santana said as she fanned herself. 

“I don’t get it,” Rachel said, racking her brain as if she had just been dropped into her math final months early. “Your voices were…flawless, your performance was   
extraordinary, your harmonies were incredible. Did you make a pact with the devil or Steven Sondheim to create such a perfect performance in exchange for your first born sons?”

“What can I say? Hummel here really knows his stuff,” Puck said, clapping Kurt on the shoulder. Kurt blushed intensely and wrapped his arms around himself as if it kept him from fainting from all the praise. 

“Well, Noah was actually a dream to work with, as well,” Kurt complimented. Puck smirked at this and looked shyly down at his shoes, kicking them awkwardly. Of all the glee   
clubbers Rachel seemed to be the only one who noticed their odd exchange on stage. 

“Okay, guys,” Mr. Schue said. “Let’s head back to the choir room and I’ll announce the winners of the free dinner to Burrito’s!” The glee club whooped their approval and   
excitedly followed their leader out the door, eager to know the winners. Kurt would have liked to stay behind with Puck and soak in the compliments from their friends, but Mercedes was waiting for him at the door to the auditorium and Puck had already leapt off stage, pushing Artie up the steep incline to the exit. He sighed quietly to himself before jumping off the stage, running up to join Mercedes.

**glee**

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” Kurt whispered urgently into his phone. Puck wasn’t answering and Kurt was trying his best to remain calm. 

They’d won the duet competition, something that caused Rachel to start weeping while Sam and Mike had to physically restrain Santana. After Mr. Schue presented them   
with their free dinner coupons he told them that they were a little old and expired soon…like the next day. Kurt and Puck had agreed to meet up at Burrito’s that night and cash in their well-deserved free dinner. 

Kurt showed up at the agreed upon time and was dressed extra-smartly for what he had coined their first official date, while Puck…well, Puck hadn’t shown up yet, and that   
was making Kurt a little nervous. Burrito’s, being a new restaurant in the land that time forgot that is Lima, was packed, and Kurt felt especially self-conscious surrounded by all these people while he himself was alone. He stared around anxiously at all the happy couples and families, eating together and chatting animatedly about whatever it was poorly dressed people talked about, knowing they were silently judging him for being alone and stood-up. He’d called Puck five times already, and texted him too many times to count, but still the mohawked boy hadn’t responded. 

Kurt sat with his elbow perched upon the table, his chin resting on his palm, trying to appear calm as he agitatedly stirred the ice in his water. The first fifteen minutes Kurt waited for Puck on pins and needles, looking up at every approaching sound or footstep, expecting it to be him. It wasn’t. He politely declined the waiter’s attempts to take his order, stating he was waiting for his…well, date wasn’t exactly appropriate, but that’s what Kurt had labeled this evening in his head. And as far as dates go it was not going well.

If the first fifteen minutes were tense, the next fifteen must’ve raised Kurt’s blood pressure by twenty points at least. He tried his best to appear nonchalant but deep down he swore he could hear everyone talking about him, mocking him or pitying him for deluding himself into thinking anyone would want to eat with him in plain sight of so many people. ‘I’ll show them,’ he thought. ‘When Noah walks in they’re going to eat their words faster than those calorie packed, deep fried, cheese-covered heart attack enabled meals.’ Ten minutes later and Puck still hadn’t shown. 

By the fifty-five minute mark Kurt had given up all hope of Puck showing up. He decided it was best to just call it a night, go home and burn the Burrito’s certificates and drown his sorrow in Diet Coke. He dreaded having to walk all the way across the restaurant by himself; the stares and sympathetic looks he would receive would surely kill him before he got to the exit. He brushed off these thoughts and had barely clutched his jacket in his sweaty palms and made to exit his booth when a bright mop of straw colored hair caught his attention and he found himself staring into the annoyingly cheery face of Sam Evans. 

“Kurt! Hey buddy, I figured I’d run into you here,” Sam said. Kurt stretched a painful smile over his face as he talked to Sam. 

“Yeah,” Kurt said, cursing his luck. Of course he’d see someone he knew on the most embarrassing night in his life. “Umm…what are you doing here?” 

“Just came by to see if they were hiring,” Sam said casually. “I could really use the extra money, especially with Santana’s expensive tastes.” 

“She does have a thing for designer underwear and brand name sex toys.” Seeing Sam raise a questioning eyebrow he elaborated, “Brittany has a big mouth. So, did you get the job?” Kurt asked politely.

“The manager said they weren’t hiring but he’d let me know if any positions opened,” Sam said with a shrug. “Where’s Puck?” he asked casually. Kurt knew Sam was being   
polite. Sure, he knew Sam was thick-skulled, but there was no way he couldn’t tell from the empty and untouched table setting across from Kurt and the lack of empty food plates that he was alone. 

“Actually, you’re guess is as good as mine,” Kurt replied lamely. “He hasn’t shown up yet.” 

“Oh,” Sam said. He looked around as if he expected Puck to choose that time to arrive and when he didn’t see him he looked back to Kurt’s watery eyes. “Maybe he’s just late,” he offered. 

“That’s sweet, Sam,” Kurt said, “but I’m pretty sure he’s not going to show.” 

“You don’t know that,” Sam said, still awkwardly standing at the front of the booth. “He could just be stuck in traffic or he got caught up in something…or maybe he was abducted by aliens and right now he’s receiving a very deep and painful anal probe.” 

Kurt chuckled lightly at Sam’s attempt to cheer him up, and Sam smiled because Kurt tended to have that effect on him. “That would be understandable, and would make a lot more sense than the reason I conjured up in my mind,” Kurt said, stirring his water with his straw.

“And what reason’s that?” Sam asked, still smiling. 

“He didn’t want to be seen eating out with the town queer,” Kurt said softly, still stirring his water. 

Sam reached out and stopped Kurt’s hand from absent-mindedly stirring his drink. He leaned down and tried to get Kurt to turn to him, but Kurt was still staring at his glass. “Hey,” he said, grabbing Kurt’s attention, “you may be gay, but there’s nothing queer about you.” Kurt looked at Sam and it seemed as if he saw him for the first time. Before he’d   
been so dismissive of Sam; the golden-haired, blue eyed, All-American jock with the perfect body and voice. Now he saw past all that superficiality to the caring, emotional boy beneath. 

“I mean, I doubt that’s the reason Puck’s not here, but if it is, he’s a fucking douche for standing you up,” Sam said resolutely. Kurt’s smile grew as he realized Sam was sticking up for him.

“Fucking douche,” Kurt chuckled. “Who knew Sam Evans was so eloquent?”

“Is that, like, a nationality or something?” Sam asked with a smile. “Because my ancestry’s mostly Norwegian and Welsh.” 

Kurt smiled tenderly at Sam and brushed his bangs out of his face, causing the blond boy’s cheeks to redden slightly. “It means,” began Kurt, “that you really have a way with words.” 

“Oh,” Sam whispered, leaning closer to Kurt. “I totally knew that.” 

The two boys found themselves entranced in each other’s eyes, Kurt drowning in the endless blue ocean of Sam’s while Sam was caught swirling in the grey clouds that   
tinged Kurt’s irises. They didn’t realize it but they’re faces inched closer and closer, they’re breath mingling and they’re noses nearly touching before the waiter chose that exact moment to interrupt.

“So, I see your dinner party is complete. Can I get you guys started on some appetizers?” the waiter asked politely. Kurt broke from Sam’s gaze and looked hazily up to the   
waiter. Sam blinked rapidly, unsure as to how he ended up seated next to Kurt in the small booth. 

Sam looked back to Kurt and said, “I guess I should get going.”

“No!” Kurt yelped. He blushed deeply before clarifying, “I mean, you should stay. Noah’s obviously not showing up and these coupons expire tomorrow. There’s no point in letting them go to waste.” 

“Are you sure?” Sam asked. He could hear the waiter impatiently tapping his pencil on his pad as the boys made up their minds.

“Yes,” Kurt said. “Please stay.” Sam’s wide mouth pulled itself into an insanely huge grin as he silently agreed to have dinner with him.

“Okay, now that that’s settled,” the waiter began, “what will you all be having tonight?” Kurt realized he hadn’t even had a chance to look at the menu. Grabbing it and quickly scanning over the choices the weight of what just happened started to sink in. He and Sam had almost kissed, in front of a crowded restaurant and their waiter no less, and it didn’t bother Sam in the least. To be next to a guy who was so comfortable around Kurt was, well…refreshing. It had never happened to Kurt so suddenly before. Even with Finn it had taken a while to develop a brotherly rapport, and of course with Puck it was still like treading on thin ice, but with Sam it came so easily. Honestly, it threw Kurt off. 

Speaking of being close, Kurt accidentally bumped Sam’s elbow while perusing the menu. “Whoops,” Sam said, “maybe I’d better move to the other side of the table. If you want me too, I mean.” 

“It’s up to you,” Kurt said, trying his best to feign indifference though secretly he wanted Sam to stay with him on this side of the booth.

“Or I could just stay here,” Sam said, not even looking up from his menu, “and we could keep our arms at our side and when I notice they’re about to bump into each other I can make that weird beeping noise like when eighteen-wheelers are backing up.” He shot a quick glance to a smiling Kurt, and when Kurt looked up from his menu Sam quickly glanced back down to continue reading his. “But if it’s more convenient then I could always just – .” 

“You might as well stay here,” Kurt said, fascinatingly reading his menu. “You don’t have to get up and go all the way over to the other side of the booth,” he said as if it were on the other side of the world.

“If you two are done being adorably awkward around each other, I would really like to take your orders now,” the waiter huffed. 

**glee**

“I don’t understand how I failed this European History test,” Brittany said.

“Well, I could be wrong,” Tina said, “but I’m pretty sure the head of the British Navy under Queen Elizabeth I wasn’t Cap’n Crunch.” 

“And Marie Antoinette was the last Queen of France before the Revolution,” Kurt said, looking over Brittany’s test, “not Lady GaGa.” 

“But they wear the same wig,” she said glassy-eyed. “If I fail this class my GPA will be so low I won’t be able to sing on glee club anymore.”

“Well, at least Mr. Schuester talked Mrs. Greenburg into letting you re-take the test,” Tina said, hoping it would cheer Brittany up.

“I don’t know if I’ll do any better this time,” Brittany said resignedly. “I shouldn’t have let my cat make my flash cards.” 

“Tell you what,” Kurt said, linking Brittany’s arm through his, “I’ll help you study. And so will Tina.” 

“I will?” Tina said unsurely. Seeing Kurt’s glare from over Brittany’s clueless face made Tina change her mind. “I mean yeah, sure. I totally will.” Tina saw Mercedes about to pass them while walking in the other direction down the hall and, deciding she didn’t want to suffer alone, roped her in as well. “And Mercedes will be there, too.” 

“Mercedes doing what now?” the thick girl asked as she heard her name in passing, causing her to come to a halt. 

“Really?” Brittany asked excitedly, looking to all three of her friends. “Oh, thanks guys! Thank you Kurtie!” She kissed Kurt on the cheek before running off down the hall. The three of them heard her inviting Santana to their study session, making Kurt wonder if he wouldn’t live to regret his act of kindness.

“What in the hell did you two get me caught up in?” Mercedes asked loudly. Before they could respond they all heard the shrill, high-pitched voice of someone that instinctively caused them to run away. 

“Kurt!” All three of them turned around to see the quickly advancing figure of Rachel Berry approaching them from down the hall. Scrambling to find a place to hide Mercedes and Tina ducked into the nearest girl’s bathroom. Tripping over his messenger bag that he had put on the floor Kurt cursed himself as he stumbled before running to enter the bathroom as well. Pushing but not feeling it budge he slammed his fist on the door only to hear Mercedes laugh and Tina yell, “This is what you get for making us tutor Brittany!”

“There is a special place on this year’s Worst Dressed List for each of you!” Kurt yelled, cursing them to his version of hell. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Rachel’s cold hand touch his arm. “Ahh! Why are your hands so cold?” 

“I was just in the walk-in freezer of the cafeteria kitchen having a clandestine meeting with Jacob Ben Israel who had some shocking news he was going to publish in his blog concerning certain members of New Directions,” she said breathlessly.

“Quinn’s not pregnant again, is she?” Kurt said as he walked down the hall, hoping to lose Rachel in the crowd.

“No. Don’t even joke about that,” Rachel said, a hurt look coming over her face as she remembered the melancholia she put herself through the year before when she (along   
with everyone else) thought Quinn was having Finn’s baby.

“Let me guess. It’s Santana who’s pregnant and the father is undetermined but has been narrowed down to at least fifty of her usual sexual partners,” Kurt said nonchalantly.

“Kurt, this is serious,” Rachel said. She looked around conspiratorially before continuing. “It’s about you.” 

“Me?” he asked, surprised. He hadn’t done anything in recent memory to warrant being on Jacob Ben Israel’s blog. Except bag the school’s resident badass. Okay, maybe that could’ve earned him a place on Jacob’s blog. “What was it about?” 

“It was a blind item,” Rachel said, retrieving a scrap of paper from her skirt pocket. “‘What size-six glee club diva/ex-football team kicker was recently seen canoodling with a certain blond second-string quarterback/record holder for the Guinness Book of World Records Biggest Lips at the newest hotspot in town, Burrito’s?’”

Kurt gasped as he tore the paper from Rachel’s hands so he could see the blind item for himself. “I can’t believe this!” he said scandalized. “I am a size four!” 

“Come on, Kurt,” Rachel said. “If Jacob publishes this it could tear the glee club apart, and we can’t have that right before Regionals!”

“Look, this blind item couldn’t have been more wrong,” Kurt said, crumbling the paper and stuffing it in his sweater pocket. “I mean, yes, I was there last night with Sam but   
we were not ‘canoodling’.” 

“Wait, what was Sam doing there?” Rachel asked.

“Noah didn’t show up and Sam happened to be there so I invited him to stay and eat with me,” Kurt said, hoping it was enough to sate Rachel’s usual nosey appetite. 

“Why didn’t Noah show up?” she asked.

“I don’t know, Rachel, but once you do find out be sure not to tell me as I’ve given up all hope on him and I even having some semblance of a friendship,” Kurt said. As he turned to get to his next class he couldn’t help but feel that though he’d said it because he was mad he really felt as if things between him and Puck were done with. And truthfully he didn’t care a bit.


	7. Worst. Sleepover. Ever. Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Italic = Kurt singing_  
>  The song is "Part of Your World" from _The Little Mermaid_

            “Remind me again how this went from a simple study session to a sleepover with everyone coming over?” Mercedes asked as she plucked the mini-quiches Kurt made out of their pan and set them to cool on the kitchen counter.

            “Well, it _was_ just supposed to be me, you, Tina and Brittany,” Kurt began as he spooned the artichoke dip he’d made into a separate serving bowl, “but then you heard Brittany invite Santana, which quickly snowballed to include Rachel and Quinn. And when word got out all the girls were coming over Finn got mad and threw a hissy fit so my dad let him – .”

            “  - I did not throw a hissy fit!” Finn denied in a high pitched voice as he entered the kitchen. “I calmly approached Burt and asked him if I could have some guys over for a night of gaming and he agreed.” Eyeing the various snack items that occupied every inch of space in the kitchen, or what Kurt had deemed ‘appropriate sustenance for studying and gossiping’ he asked, “Did you make those little Hot Pocket things with, like, the really flaky crust and that weird green stuff in the middle?”

            “For the last time, they’re called spanakopitas, Finn, and yes, they’re over here,” Kurt gestured next to the oven. Seeing his brother approach them hungrily he slapped Finn’s outstretched hand, reprimanding him for attempting to eat them before anyone had arrived.

            “But dude, I’m sooo hungry!” Finn said pathetically. “Can’t I just have one?” He stuck his lower lip out and made small whiny puppy noises to Kurt, wrapping his arms around his little brother and squeezing him around the stomach, keeping him from finishing setting-up the food.

            “Oh my God, yes Finn, go ahead!” Kurt flustered. Finn yipped happily and grabbed three before Kurt could stop him and ran out the kitchen. “Someday I’m going to tell him that ‘weird green stuff’ is spinach and he’s been unknowingly eating vegetables this whole time,” Kurt said with satisfaction.

            “Mmmhmm,” Mercedes chuckled. “You know, you can act like you’re the bossy one and all, but you have to admit that boy has you wrapped around his little finger.” Pushing the plate of mini-quiches to the side for Kurt’s approval she started work on laying out the ingredients for the make-your-own pizza bar Kurt planned. “So, is everyone really coming?”

            “Well, Tina and Mike are already on their way over, and they’re picking up Artie, and Sam said he’d pick Brittany up on his way here,” Kurt said.

            “Doesn’t Britt live, like, a block away?” Mercedes asked as she started grating the mozzarella into a bowl.

            “Yes, but the last time she set out on her own without help she ended up at the Lima Allen County Airport because she thought she had to fly to get to the McDonald’s down the street,” Kurt sighed. “We all decided it would be better if someone picked her up. What about Santana?  Is she coming?”

            “She said if she didn’t have anyone better to do she would,” Mercedes said slyly. Kurt didn’t miss her wording and the two best friends shared a brief laughing fit before continuing their conversation. “And you know Quinn’s coming because Finn is here, and I think Rachel’s getting a ride from Puck.” Kurt tried his best to ignore the drop in his stomach when he heard Puck was indeed coming.

            “Why did we invite Rachel again?” Kurt asked, looking up from where he was laying out cupcakes on different serving plates.

            “Because it’d be messed up if the whole glee club was here and she got left out,” Mercedes said. “Besides, I felt bad that she had that party last month and we all basically trashed her house and left without helping her clean up so I invited her.”

            “Or is it because she got an A on Mrs. Greenburg’s history test and you wanted her to help out Brittany while we gossiped and did each other’s nails,” Kurt said, eyeing his bestie out of the corner of his eye.

            “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Mercedes said, turning to Kurt with a wicked grin on her face. Hearing the doorbell ring she offered to answer it, licking marina sauce of her finger as she went.            

            Kurt could hear the loud squeal of Tina and Brittany as they greeted Mercedes and the slapping of hands as Finn greeted the boys, the house suddenly alive and vibrant with the sound of teenagers. “Let the festivities begin,” Kurt said excitedly, dropping a final touch of rainbow colored sprinkles over the cupcakes he’d made.

**glee**

            “Do you think Miss Pillsbury and Mr. Schue will ever get together?” Brittany sighed from the futon on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

            “If they ever pull their heads out of their butts and realize they’re made for each other,” Quinn said, looking up from where she was painting Brittany’s toenails. Brittany pulled her foot up to her face and eyed Quinn’s work, squealing with glee.

            The girls and Kurt were spread out around the basement floor, which after Kurt and Finn had moved upstairs, had been turned into an oversized entertainment room with plenty of couches and a big screen TV. Though everyone was planning on sleeping there for the night Kurt and Finn decided they would hold court separately for the first part of the evening because Kurt knew the girls would want to gossip about the boys and Finn knew the boys wanted to play video games, an activity the girls had no interest in. Finn had argued he and the boys should get the basement first because it had the big screen and they were playing video games. Kurt wanted it first because there was no way all the girls could fit comfortably in his room. They’d argued about it the previous night until Kurt bribed Finn with his favorite breakfast into giving up the basement. His mouth full of syrupy pancakes and salty breakfast meats Finn grinned at his brother and happily conceded.

            “All I know is Miss Pillsbury really needs to get laid,” Santana said from where she was comfortably perched on the couch painting her nails. “I’m so tired of her trying to get me to open up about my ‘abandonment issues’ and ‘promiscuity’,” she said with air quotes. “I mean, who needs that?”

            “ _You_ do,” Mercedes said seriously, earning her a death glare from the Latina. Mercedes turned back to where she was plaiting Tina’s hair with tiny skeleton-butterfly pins and said, “Anyways, I heard Mr. Schue is with Miss Holiday now.”

            “Where’d you hear that?” Rachel asked from behind Mercedes. She was brushing her hair out, preparing it for styling.

            “I heard him and Coach Bieste talking about it in the teacher’s lounge,” Mercedes said knowingly.

            “And what were you doing in the teacher’s lounge?” asked Tina.

            “Miss Sylvester made me taste her lunch that day because she was sure the Zappatista’s were trying to poison her, whoever they are,” Mercedes said, pinning Tina’s hair with the last of the pins. “Kurt, do you have anymore hair pins?”

            “Yeah, in my room,” Kurt said, getting to his feet. “Do you guys need anything else while I’m up?”

            “Can you bring me another cupcake, please?” Brittany asked sweetly from where she was laying.

            “And could you bring some more sweet tea?” Mercedes asked, shaking her glass filled with nothing but ice.

            “Oh, and can you make me another pizza with pepperoni and, like, a lot of veggies?” Tina asked. “But I only want half.”

            “I’ll get the other half,” Quinn offered, looking up at Kurt with a smile.

            “Please Kurt?” they all said at once.

            Kurt rolled his eyes. “I suppose,” he said, his hands on his hips. “A host’s job is never done,” he sighed to himself as he ascended the basement stairs.

            He walked up the second set of stairs to his room, deciding to retrieve the hair pins before he started on the snacks for the girls. Walking down the hallway he was hoping Puck didn’t walk out of Finn’s room, creating an awkward situation for them both. He hadn’t talked to him since the day of the duet, a little pissed that he hadn’t tried to contact him about being stood up, but at the same time not caring because it was Puck’s problem, not Kurt’s.

            He thought he was in the clear when he saw Finn’s bedroom door closed, and was planning on rushing past to get to his room, but he was unprepared for the door to open and someone to come flying out of the room. He got pushed into the wall, bruising his shoulder a little.

            “Oh shit,” Sam said, pulling Kurt from the wall. Kurt was softly rubbing his shoulder, a pained look on his face. “Are you okay?” he asked, turning Kurt so he could try to examine his shoulder.

            “I’m fine,” he replied, still grasping his shoulder. “Just, you know, having my life flash before my eyes.”

            Sam smiled at him, rubbing his arm up and down despite it not hurting in the least. “Yeah? And how did that go for you?”

            “Lots of fashion-don’ts,” Kurt said smiling. “I regret letting my father dress me those few months between my mother’s untimely death and my learning how to take the bus to the mall without him knowing.”

            “Sorry I almost ran you over,” Sam said, still rubbing Kurt’s arm. “I just wanted to use the bathroom before Finn took over my turn.” As soon as he said this he heard Finn’s unmistakable victory howl, making Kurt cringe. “I guess I’m already too late.” He eyed Kurt nervously, sweeping his bangs out of his eyes with his free hand. “So, you and the girls having fun?”

            “Yeah. Lots of gossiping and nail painting, you know, standard girl sleepover stuff,” Kurt said.

            “Oh,” Sam said disappointedly. “So all that stuff in the movies about pillow fights in nothing but sexy lingerie and practicing kissing with your friends was all lies?”

            “No, we usually do that right before we sleep,” Kurt deadpanned. “It really tires us out.”

            Sam furrowed his brow, wondering if Kurt was serious. “You’re messing with me, right?” Sam smiled back unsurely.

            Kurt shrugged his shoulders, biting back a smile. “I guess you’ll never know,” he said, twirling his way around him to get to his room.  

            “THIS GAME IS A FART!” Finn yelled from his room. Kurt and Sam could hear him angrily throw his game controller on the ground while Mike and Artie sniggered in the background. “You guys suck!” Finn whined. Kurt could hear him throw himself on his bed before announcing, “I’m going down to the basement.”

            “Finn,” Kurt said, ducking his head into his brother’s doorway, “play nice.”

            “They cheated!” Finn yelled, pointing an accusatory finger in the direction of Puck, Mike and Artie.

            Ignoring Finn’s outburst Kurt addressed the rest of the guys in the room. “If you guys want you can go downstairs with the girls, or there’s plenty of snacks left if you’re still hungry.”

            “Thanks, Kurt,” Artie said. “But I think we’ll play a little longer before we head off to the basement.”

            “Alright,” Kurt said. “Well, feel free to help yourselves to some more food. I don’t think even Finn could finish all those snacks by himself.” At the mention of his name Finn looked up from where he was sulking on his bed, his eyes alert and questioning and his head cocked to the side like a dog that had just woken up.

            “Thanks, Kurt,” Mike waved without even looking away from the television. And seated next to Mike, Kurt saw Puck also engaged in the game flashing across the screen. As Kurt was pulling the door closed he saw Puck take a quick glance in his direction, probably noticing the movement out of the corner of his eye. Their gaze met for a brief second, but before anything else could happen Kurt quickly ducked out of Finn’s doorway, leaving the door open but breaking whatever spell Puck could have cast on him.

            “Sorry about that,” Kurt said to Sam. “Finn can be a little…energetic, especially when he’s pumped full of sugar and has friends over.”

            “It’s okay,” Sam said. “He kind of reminds me of my little brother when he gets all worked up like that.”

            Before Kurt could respond he heard the raspy voice of Santana approaching from the stairway. “There you are,” she said to Kurt. “Mercedes sent me up here to see what’s taking you so long.”

            “And you obeyed?” Kurt asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He didn’t know why but whenever he and Santana spoke he always felt like he had to be on the defensive in case one of her barbed comments hit too close to home.

            “It was either that or stay down there and listen to Brittany _graphically_ demonstrate how she and Artie get it on despite the fact that his legs are about as useful as two Hefty bags filled with Jell-O,” Santana said. “What are you doing here?” she asked Sam.

            “Uh, I was invited the same as you,” Sam said. “I told you I was coming.”

            “I thought you were going out of town to protest the slaughter of your people at Red Lobster or something,” she said referring to his fish lips. “Whatever, I’ll be in your room, Kurt, looking through your undoubtedly large collection of women’s underwear.” With that she flitted past the two, leaving a speechless Sam and a bemused Kurt in her wake.

            “Why do you let her talk down to you like that?” Kurt asked Sam.

            “I don’t know,” Sam exhaled, leaning on the wall. “Every time she makes one of those stupid comments about my big lips I swear I’m finished with her but then the next thing I know we’re in the back seat of my car and my hand’s inside her blouse and she’s reaching down my jeans - .”

            “ – Okay,” Kurt said, raising his hand to stop Sam from continuing his story. “I get it.” A tense silence followed, broken only by Sam announcing his giving up playing in Finn’s room to go downstairs.

            “Yeah, well, I’m going to go get some more snackage and maybe join the girls down in the basement,” Sam said, walking slowly backwards to the stairs. “I’ll see you down there,” he said before descending. He mentally slapped himself, knowing his mentioning what he and Santana did in his car had caused it to become suddenly awkward between him and Kurt.

            Kurt sighed softly to himself as he walked the short distance to his room. Once there he was greeted by the sight of Santana sitting comfortably on the edge of his bed, her legs crossed while looking through the pages of the tabloid magazines Kurt left strewn by his bedside.

            “Tut, tut, tut,” she reprimanded. “What the hell was Jessica Alba thinking wearing that pink curtain to the Oscar’s? One Latina to another, that shit makes her look like a drag queen version of Marilyn Monroe.”

            Ignoring her comments Kurt gestured to the dresser by his bathroom door.“The hair pins are actually over here. But thank you for making yourself at home in my bedroom.”

            “Just repaying the favor,” Santana said, still not looking up from where she was flipping through the magazine.

            “What?” Kurt asked bewildered. He’d meant his last comment as a joke, but he was genuinely lost as to what Santana had meant.

            “I’m just making myself comfortable with these magazines the same way you’ve made yourself comfortable with something I own.” Seeing Kurt’s confused expression she continued. “Oh, don’t play dumb, Hummel,” she said, throwing the magazine behind her and getting to her feet. “I saw you three out in the hall.”

            “Three?” Kurt asked wonderingly.

            “You, Sam, and those huge bee-stung lips of his,” Santana counted on her fingers.

            “I don’t know what you think you saw,” Kurt said hurriedly, already annoyed by Santana despite their conversation just starting, “but Sam and I were just talking.”

            “Please,” Santana scoffed. “Unless you understand trout squeaks there’s no way you and Sam can communicate.” Getting closer to Kurt, her face almost in his, she said, “Besides, everyone knows he’s only good for two things: making out, and flapping those ginormous lips of his to cool small countries suffering from heat waves.”

            “Sam and I are just friends – ,” Kurt began.

            “Just stop it, okay,” Santana interruped. “You can say you’re friends all you want but friends don’t ‘canoodle’ with each other at Burrito’s.”

            Mentally scanning his memory he wondered why Santana would have used that particular word. “How did you…?”

            “Jacob came to me for a comment about that blind item,” she responded. “He would have posted it too if Rachel hadn’t given him one of her old retainers in exchange for him squashing the story. That damn hobbit always messes with my diabolical scheming.”

            Kurt looked at her, eyebrow arched. “Wait. _You_ tipped Jacob off about me and Sam at the restaurant?”

            “Of course,” she said nonchalantly. “I saw Gummi Bear lips headed into Burrito’s, and intending to make him buy me dinner I followed him inside but then I saw him talking with you. So I decided to stick around, may have chatted up the bartender and slipped him some nipple by accident so he could give me a couple drinks while I watched you two on what had to be the most boring date in the history of gaydom.”

            “We were not on a date,” Kurt said, his head reeling. Apparently everyone knew about Sam and his dinner and they all assumed they were dating. “Is it really so hard to believe that he and I are friends?”

            “Honestly, yes,” she said, roughly putting down a music box she was examining on Kurt’s vanity. “I mean, no offense, but you’re like the gayest thing to exist in this town since Richard Simmons attended that Backstreet Boys concert and got caught in the Port-A-Potty with George Michaels.”

            “That never happened,” Kurt said with an eye-roll.

            “Whatever,” Santana said, quickly losing patience with the conversation. “Look. I don’t know if you have feelings for Sam, and frankly I don’t care, but you have to know deep down that Sam was just feeling sorry for you when he had dinner with you.”

            Kurt’s nostrils flared before responding, “Unless he told you that why should I believe – .”

            “Believe it because, despite his being able to win 1st place in an Ellen Degeneres Look-Alike Contest and having lips that were obviously meant to be placed on a prostitute who specializes in giving head, he’s straight,” she said, her arms crossed. “While your gayness, along with the Great Wall of China, is so huge it’s visible from space.”

            Kurt looked away from Santana’s scathing remarks, unable to even come up with a witty comeback, which had never happened to him before. Seeing her hurtful words affect Kurt so deeply she walked over and placed a comforting (or, what she assumed to be comforting but was actually quite tight and with her long nails, scratchy) arm around Kurt.

            “Look Hummel, I’m not trying to hurt you or anything,” she said, her arm still tightly wrapped around him. “In fact, I like you. Kind of like how Paris Hilton liked that Chihuahua she always carried in her purse before it got old and she had it put to sleep. So don’t take what I say personally. I just _hate_ it when people play with my toys,” she said.

            Kurt shrugged her arm off, looking at her through his angry eyes. “I’m not ‘playing’ with Sam, nor do I want to. Like I said, we’re just friends.”

            “Tell yourself that all you want,” she said, grabbing the container filled with hair pins and walking to the door. “But do you really believe you could ever belong with that?” she asked, gesturing out his door into Finn’s room where Kurt saw the boys enthralled in their video games, making dirty jokes and hi-fiving each other while burping and scratching themselves unashamedly. Kurt cringed in disgust.

            “See, Sam’s a guy, and like all guys, you can date them, you can lust after them, and you can even sleep with them as long as they don’t make eye contact or try to kiss you when it’s over,” Santana said. “But don’t ever delude yourself into thinking you can be friends with them.”

            Kurt glared at her before turning his back on her as she moved closer to the exit. “Face it, Kurt, you can sing all the girl songs you want but you’ll never really be a girl, and you’ll for damn sure never be a real boy. Looks like you won’t fit in anywhere no matter how hard you try,” she said casually, trouncing out of the room with the container of hair pins rattling in her grasp.

            Kurt wrapped his arms tightly around his chest as he turned to his vanity. Tears clouded his eyes as he stared at his reflection. Santana was right. For years he’d been on the outside looking in, watching as his classmates easily fit into every gender appropriate stereotype while he struggled to find a place to belong. Girls had slumber parties he was never invited to and boys played sports but never chose him to play with them. He remembered vividly stalking the corners of the playground as a child, never having friends and never having someone to talk to about his constant loneliness.

            He brushed the tears from his cheeks once they’d spilled over. Still looking in the mirror, he remembered back to his and Puck’s first kiss, and how when Puck spent the night he felt so safe and secure. He remembered feeling like he’d never be alone again, not as long as he had someone there who had feelings for him like Puck did. Because yes, Mercedes and Tina and the rest of the girls in glee club were his best friends, but he knew there were some things they never felt comfortable talking to him about, and he knew there were some things he’d rather talk to a guy about. Although Finn was great, he was still Kurt’s stepbrother, and though he was totally cool with Kurt’s sexuality, he wasn’t the easiest guy to talk to about crushes and sex, especially gay sex.

            So he let himself get wrapped up in Puck, seeing Puck as a savior for his life of loneliness. But then Puck showed his true colors, backed down when Kurt needed him most, and left him hanging right when he was beginning to believe he was different. In a way, Puck left Kurt feeling lonelier, because if the only guy who had feelings for him treated him like that, how would ordinary people treat him once he got to know them. The kids in glee were great, but he had to admit even in their club of misfits and outcasts, he still felt like the odd man out.

            Moving away from his vanity he went to close the door to his room but was caught off guard by the scene in Finn’s room. Finn had gotten over his tantrum from earlier and was now happily playing video games with Puck and Artie while Mike used Finn’s laptop to check out the songs on his iTunes and go on tumblr. Seeing them so at ease around each other, Kurt couldn’t help but feel a sting of jealousy. Santana was right about this, too. He’d never be able to be that way around them. Either he’d feel uncomfortable because of their deplorable manners or their crude comments, or they’d feel uncomfortable because of Kurt’s flamboyant behavior or his unique fashion sense. No matter what, neither party would feel free to be themselves.

            While staring at them he felt music rising in his ears, a slow melody churning out of thin air as he hummed softly along with it. He figured the only way to express the swirl of emotions he was currently feeling was to sing about it. Though the lyrics to the song may have seemed odd, he realized it was the only song he knew off the top of his head that accurately summed up his wanting so badly to belong yet knowing he never would.

            _“Look at this stuff, isn’t it neat?_

_Wouldn’t you think my collection’s complete?_

_Wouldn’t you think I’m the boy, the boy who has – everything?”_ he sang, gesturing to his beautifully decorated room filled with designer clothes and expensive accoutrements. He realized though they made him happy, they could never fill the hole left by never having someone close that he could truly call a friend.

_“Look at this trove, treasures untold,_

_How many wonders can one bedroom hold?_

_Looking around here you think, “Sure, he’s got everything.”_

_“I’ve got McQueen’s and Jacob’s aplenty,”_ he sang as he rifled through his closet, clutching at all the designer wares.

_“I’ve got Dior’s and Chanel’s galore,_

_You want Armani’s? I got twenty._

_But who cares, no big deal, I want more.”_

_“I want to be where the people are,”_ he sang, staring out his doorway to Finn’s room, filled with friends who were so comfortable around each other, and the one boy who made his heart stop but wouldn’t give Kurt a second look if they weren’t alone.

_“I want to see, want to see ‘em dancing,_

_Walking around on those, what do you call ‘em? Oh, feet,”_ he laughed to himself.

_“Flipping your fins you don’t get too far,_

_Legs are required for jumping, dancing,_

_Strolling along down a – what’s that word again? Street.”_ He realized how silly the song must sound to those who didn’t know how he was feeling, but to those who have ever felt left out or unwelcome or unable to get something they wanted so badly, the song made perfect sense, no matter the lyrics.

_“Up where they walk, up where they run, up where they stay all day in the sun,_

_Wandering free, wish I could be part of that world,”_ he sang softly _._

_When’s it my turn? Wouldn’t I love, love to explore that shore up above!_

_“Out of the sea,”_ he sighed, clutching his chest, looking at the empty room around him.

_“Wish I could be,_

_Part of that world,”_ hefinished, staring longingly at the boys across the hall, his focus on Puck especially. He wondered if he were apart of that world, the secret world of boys, would Puck be more willing to spend time with Kurt in public? Would Puck let Kurt eat lunch with him? Would he acknowledge them as at least friends?

            “Or will he always shun me publically, while wrapping his arms around me in private?” he whispered to himself.

Kurt turned from where he was leaning on his doorframe and hastily wiped a stray tear from his cheek, closing his door. He went to his bathroom to reapply his blush and eyeliner before heading back downstairs. He quickly thanked whatever higher power invented waterproof mascara, otherwise he’d be in front of his mirror reapplying all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back, guess who's back, guess who's back, la la la


	8. Worst. Sleepover. Ever. Part II: Return of the Puckerman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how this chapter came out way more schmoopy then I mean for it to.

            Puck was pissed.

            And not like when he would stub his toe on the corner of his dresser when he got up in the morning-pissed, or like when his Ma would wash his hair and scrub it too vigorously for his liking-pissed. No, he was seething, boiling, royally pissed off.

            So to see him lounging around in his best bud’s bedroom, throwing snacks at Artie’s open mouth and whooping Mike’s ass at the new Mortal Kombat, one would think he was perfectly fine.

            No, dumbass. He was teetering a fine line, fully aware that at any moment his sanity could unravel and he would go all _Set It Off_ in this mothafucker. And he hated feeling that way. He hated not being in control of his feelings, not being able to lock his anger away in a safe somewhere and access it later when it was more appropriate, like during football or when he needed lunch money from some freshman. No, whenever he got mad the best he could do was put that anger in a pot, put that pot on the backburner, and wait for it to inevitably boil over.

            It was either that or get to the root of whatever made him angry, and hey, he was a guy. Guy’s don’t do all that touchy-feely share-your-emotions crap. He may be questioning his sexuality, but he wasn’t questioning his badassness.

**glee**

            Kurt sprinkled a few vegetables over the pizza he was making for Tina and Quinn. Had he been paying attention he would have laid each vegetable out carefully, making sure the red and yellow peppers were spread evenly on each side, with enough color to fully accentuate the pale white mozzarella and the plentiful black olives and brown mushrooms. Instead he casually threw some veggies here and some there, his mind wandering off into the night, to how peaceful he was before he ever got involved with Noah Puckerman, to how he never felt the need to sing songs from _The Little Mermaid_ to himself before this mohawked idiot came into his life.

            He slid the pizza into the oven, setting the timer for fifteen minutes before going to the cabinet and getting out an oversized platter. He set a plate for the pizza on the platter, followed by a small saucer for Brittany’s cupcake, and a freshly filled jug of sweet tea to refresh everyone’s drinks downstairs. He learned from Martha Stewart that one’s guests should never suffer from poor hospitality just because the host had personal issues in the middle of a party. So he found comfort in controlling the refreshments, the one thing he could control, while letting his mind drift back to the dinner last night with Sam.

            It had been a very easy dinner. There had been no awkward silences shared between them. They flowed steadily from one subject to the next, Sam talking about his family and their Tennessee roots and his school before McKinley, Kurt talking about his dad’s business and living with Finn and Carole. Sam comforted him when he mentioned his mother’s passing, and Kurt couldn’t help but laugh out loud as Sam recounted how he’d almost tried Clorox on his hair before lemon juice, his mother stopping him at the last minute.

            Kurt had never had a male friend be so at ease with him as Sam was. Finn was an anomaly due to their now shared bond as stepbrothers; after all, Kurt couldn’t hope to turn every potential friend into a stepbrother just so they would be comfortable with him. Kurt wondered why Sam felt so calm around him. They’d never really been friends before, but lately there was something about the blond jock that Kurt couldn’t quite put his finger on, something that both intrigued him and filled him with a sense of familiarity at the same time.

            Before he could identify the feeling he heard the unmistakable thunder of feet on the stairs. Hearing the basement door open, too, he realized there were people coming from both sides of the house. Finn was the first one to reach the kitchen, Artie’s wheelchair hitched on his back as he approached the food as if coming back from battle, stuffing both mini-quiches and cream puffs in his mouth without hesitation. Meanwhile, Mike hauled Artie piggyback style to the basement, not even stopping in the kitchen. They ran into Rachel and Sam on the way up. Kurt heard Mike and Artie laugh loudly, and it wasn’t until Sam was in the kitchen that he saw why.

            Sam’s normally long, blond hair was put up in hair pins, pulled in certain areas with bright pink hair clips and tied with shiny purple bows in others. And it seemed his mouth, which by normal standards was already big, had increased multiple times in size thanks to a Glasgow smile one of the girls had painted across his cheeks and lips in dark red lipstick. Add to that the pale white powder someone had brushed all over his face and the mascara someone had smeared under his eyes and Sam looked like a smaller, less menacing version of Heath Ledger as the Joker in _The Dark Knight_. He had a deathly serious look on his face, again reminiscent of the Joker, as he told Kurt and Finn he would kill the first one of them to tease him.

            “Dude,” Finn said, nearly choking on his food with laughter, “what happened!?”

             “Samuel here made the regrettable decision of asking us when we were going to pillow fight in our underwear,” Rachel said, leering at Sam with satisfaction. “Needless to say we girls decided he needed to be punished for believing we actually deigned to perpetuate such a clichéd and not to mention sexist view of women.”

            “Yeah, what she said,” Sam said irritated. He drummed his fingers on the counter as he looked at Kurt. “What?”

            “Nothing,” Kurt said, biting back a laugh.

            “Come on, let me have it,” Sam said, throwing his hands in the air. “The purple bows don’t match the pink ones, the lipstick makes my mouth look bigger, the bows would look prettier if I let my hair grow out, what?”

            “No,” Kurt said, still straining to contain his laughter, “you actually look very pretty.”

            “Really?” Sam asked. A small glimmer of a smile began to tug at his lips as he self-consciously stroked his long blond hair, his painted-on smile widening dangerously.

            “Yeah, bro,” Finn said, his mouth full of chips and dip, “you’re the prettiest girl here.” Finn erupted into laughter, and even Rachel and Kurt let out a chuckle before turning away from Sam’s death glare.

            “Why are you guys my friends?” Sam sulked to no one in particular.

            “This is nothing,” Kurt said rubbing Sam’s shoulder, trying to ease his embarrassment. “When Finn got caught in the girl’s locker room last year Coach Sylvester made him wear a Cheerios uniform for the rest of the week.” Sam guffawed into his shoulder as he turned to Finn who was staring off into space.

            “I learned to appreciate underwear that week,” Finn said, vividly remembering how easily his Cheerios skirt blew up at the slightest draft.

            “I think we _all_ learned to appreciate your wearing underwear that week,” Kurt cringed, with Rachel nodding her head vigorously behind him. Finn scowled at the both of them.

            Remembering the incredibly short skirt on Finn and wondering if there was such a thing as bleach for a person’s memory Kurt heard the timer for the pizza go off, breaking him from his reverie. He removed the pizza from the oven and set it on the platter he’d laid out before Rachel volunteered to take it down.

            “It’s actually why we came up here,” she said. “The girls were wondering where their food was. You know how demanding the less talented can be, especially when they’re led to believe they’re just as valuable as other more talented members of the glee club.” Kurt knew from experience it was best to leave Rachel in her own world and let her believe she was the star, rather than spend precious minutes, no, _hours_ of his life trying to convince her differently.

            “Here,” Finn said, grabbing the pitcher of tea with one hand from where Rachel was struggling with it, the other hand still clutching Artie’s folded-up wheelchair. “Let me take this down for you.” He smiled his crooked smile at her, making her eyes widen in joy.

            “Thank you, Finn. You’re such a gentleman,” she said breathily.

            “Naw, I think you have to be gentlemened by the Queen to be called that, like a knight,” Finn reasoned. Kurt shook his head, deciding to give his eyes a break from their usual roll in their sockets at everything his clueless brother said. Rachel was too awestruck to digest Finn’s dumb remark, instead leading the way downstairs to the basement with an extra skip in her step that was evident to both Sam and Kurt but not Finn.

            “They make a cute couple, don’t they?” Sam said as he watched them leave the room.

            “Yes. The brainless giant and the annoying dwarf. It’s like a fairy tale,” Kurt said, making Sam laugh.

            “Too bad he’s with Quinn,” Sam said, Kurt not missing the slightest hint of disappointment in his voice.

            “Do you miss her?” Kurt asked.

            “Sometimes,” Sam shrugged. “But it’s probably just because I see her, like, everyday.”

            “That would be tough,” Kurt reasoned. “I don’t know how you all do it, constantly swapping partners like we’re at a ‘60s swinger’s party.”

            “The heart wants what it wants,” Sam said, amazed at himself for sounding so wise.

            “But I’m guessing it’s a different organ that’s in control when you’re with Santana,” Kurt smiled. “One a little further south?”

            “And bigger. Don’t forget bigger,” Sam said, his Joker smile stretching across his face. He was leaning on the counter now, his eyebrows raised conspiratorially in Kurt’s direction.

            “No, I remember seeing you in the shower while discussing our partnership during the first duets competition,” Kurt said, moving some snacks onto empty plates to make room in the crowded kitchen. “And I don’t think the word ‘bigger’ is an accurate description of your…situation.” Kurt gave a brief look at Sam’s crotch before meeting the blond boy’s nondescript stare. They began their standoff, each daring the other to break. Kurt should have been the one to laugh first, what with Sam’s insane clown makeup and third grade hairstyling, but Sam broke first, unable to take Kurt’s serious ice-queen stare.

            Sam guffawed loudly, sending Kurt into a fit of giggling. Every time he saw Sam’s face he broke again into a new round of laughter, Sam joining in at the loud trill of Kurt’s laugh. It quelled only when Kurt carefully removed the ribbons and clips from Sam’s hair, softly stroking his downy blond locks, and then taking a wet paper towel and wiping the majority of makeup off Sam’s face. His touch immediately ceased Sam’s laughter, and once Sam’s makeup was off, Kurt was able to look onto Sam once more without breaking into hysterics.

            “You’re evil,” Sam whispered, referring to the shower joke that had started it all. Kurt smiled unsurely back, his fingers lingering delicately on Sam’s face, but realizing the ease with which they could stray he quickly brought them down and washed his hands of the sticky makeup that had caked the poor blond’s visage.

            “So, is there any more stuff for pizza left?” Sam asked, hoping to defuse the awkwardness that always seemed to haunt them.

            “You want a pizza?” Kurt asked incredulously. “Not an egg white omelet or, I don’t know, just plain air in a bottle? It’d be fewer calories,” he teased.

            “Ha ha,” Sam laughed mockingly. “I can eat a pizza.” He lifted his shirt, showing Kurt his rock hard abs before saying, “These babies can withstand one night of cheesy greasy goodness.”

            “You could basically grate the cheese off your stomach if you wanted,” Kurt said sarcastically. He didn’t know why but he stuck a tentative hand out and ghosted his fingertips over the ridges of Sam’s abs. He traced an outline before looking into Sam’s eyes, surprised to see Sam was eagerly watching him. Kurt couldn’t help as his mouth curled into a reluctant smile, something that was apparently contagious because Sam smiled back. What else would have happened is unknown, as the two broke apart once they heard the stifling sound of a throat being cleared.

            “Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Puck said as he sauntered into the kitchen. He moved to Kurt’s side, staring fiercely at Sam as the blond quickly pulled his shirt down. He fought the urge to put his arm around Kurt in order to show to whom the small brunette boy belonged to. He didn’t know if Sam was gay, and honestly he didn’t care. All he knew is he saw the kid hanging around Kurt earlier upstairs, and add to that this little game of touch my body he’d interrupted and he considered Sam to be encroaching dangerously close to something Puck considered his.

            “No, Sam and I were just – talking,” Kurt said. God, how many times had he said that in the last 24 hours?

            “Oh, well that’s good,” Puck began, “because it looked like you were feeling up Insane Clown Posse over here.” Puck tilted his head, looking wonderingly at the smudged remnants of makeup on Sam’s face.

            Kurt turned to Puck, his arms crossed and his eyes burning dangerously. This was the first time he and Puck talked since the duet, since Puck stood Kurt up at Burrito’s, and instead of apologizing or explaining Puck was basically pissing on Kurt, marking him as his territory rather than talking to him about the past couple of days.

“I wasn’t feeling anybody up,” Kurt said as icily as he could. “I was just asking Sam if he wanted another pizza.” Puck looked at Kurt, eyebrow arched. He was about to accuse Kurt of something else when Sam butt in.

            “Yeah, dude. Lighten up,” Sam said. “Kurt was just checking out my ab-age. Here, want to touch?” Sam innocently lifted his shirt, showing Puck his admittedly enviable six-pack. But instead of intriguing Puck he only served to anger him more.

            “No, _dude,_ ” Puck said harshly, “I don’t want to touch your stupid stomach and neither does anybody here. So put that shit away.”

            “Relax, Puckerman, it won’t make you gay if you touch another guy,” Sam said. He didn’t know what caused it but he saw something snap in Puck’s eyes. Kurt saw it, too, and moved in front of Sam just as Puck lunged forward.

            “What’d you say?!” Puck yelled. He would have slammed into Sam and ripped his stupid blond head off his even stupider looking body if Kurt hadn’t blocked him at the last minute. He wanted to push Kurt away, and could have given the extent of his anger, but surprised himself when he reigned in his fury and instead let Kurt’s small, soft hands hold him back, his delicate fingers pushing into Puck’s chest.

            Sam recoiled slightly at Puck’s outburst but didn’t budge an inch, not even when Puck brought his face close enough to Sam’s that their noses touched, poor Kurt sandwiched between them. “Say it again, Evans. Come on, say it again so when I black out from rage and come to in  a few hours I can remember why I’m covered in bits of blond hair and pieces of your huge mouth,” Puck spat. He egged Sam on, teasing him, wanting him mad enough so that he’d fight back and it wouldn’t seem like he’d lost control and attacked an innocent Sam.

            Kurt felt trapped between their two broad chests. He tried pushing Puck back but it was like pushing up against a brick wall. He immediately regretted turning down Finn’s repeated offers of weight-training, figuring it was times like this when some muscle would come in handy. Instead he resorted to reason, trying to get each of them to stop this foolishness. “Noah, calm down,” he said soothingly. “Sam,” he said, turning his neck as far as he could, eyeing Sam’s fierce stance, “Sam, please. Walk away.”

            “I don’t know what your problem is, _Puck_ ,” Sam said, ignoring Kurt’s pleas and spitting out the mohawked boy’s nickname with disdain, “but if you black out I can pretty much guarantee the only place you’ll come to is in a hospital.”

            “Bring it, hillbilly,” Puck taunted. Kurt saw Sam’s face redden and, though he was able to keep Puck restrained he knew he’d never be able to hold both of them back from fighting. Seeing them eye each other murderously he decided he needed to defuse the situation before it got out of control.

            “Noah! Sam! Stop it!” Kurt yelled. He looked pleadingly to each boy, hoping they heard the sincerity with which he beseeched them. Again they paid him no attention. Kurt could feel the tension in the room, and he knew all it would take was one shove or raised fist and the boys would be in an all-out brawl. “Guys!” Kurt yelled. “Cut it out!”

            “What’s going on here?” The booming voice of Burt Hummel cut through the tension-filled room. Puck immediately backed off of Kurt and Sam, slouching against the counter. Sam did the same, backing away from Kurt and leaning on the pantry door in the corner. Though they both separated neither boy took their eye off the other, each still staring dangerously at their foe.

            “Dad,” Kurt said. A slight blush rose to his cheeks, a result of his flustered attempts at stopping their potential fray. “Nothing.” Seeing his father’s skeptical look he clarified, “I mean, nothing was happening.”

            “So what was with all the yelling?” he queried. He looked to the mohawked punk to his son’s right, and the angry looking blond kid to the left, and knowing he wouldn’t get an answer from either of them he settled his eyes again on Kurt.

            “They were just fighting – ,” Kurt began. Quickly his eyes scanned the kitchen, seeking an appropriate ending to his explanation. “ – Over the last of the Rice Krispies Treats.”

            “Rice Krispies Treats?” his dad repeated. He didn’t look like he fully bought Kurt’s lie, and Kurt could see in his father’s eyes the start of a very embarrassing ending to his sleepover, complete with phone calls to parents and lectures for both him and Finn.

            “Yeah, the Rice Krispies Treats,” Puck said from his corner. “I wanted the last one but Sam got to it first.”

            Sam looked confusedly from Puck to Kurt before picking up on the act. “Yeah, well I was here first and Puck took his time so I got to it before he did,” Sam said. Puck glared at Sam, and the blond boy shot him a dirty look in turn.

            “Well, don’t kill each other over one of Kurt’s snacks,” Burt said, his arms still crossed from where he stood in the doorway. “And if you two can’t behave like adults over something as small as a Rice Krispies Treat you’re more than welcome to leave.”

            “That won’t be necessary, sir,” Sam said apologetically. He looked at Burt, tilting his head down shamefully. “I – We didn’t mean for it to get out of control.”

            “Yeah,” began Puck, “sorry for all the noise and waking you up, Mr. H.” Burt, accepting the boys’ apology, nodded his head in acknowledgement.

            “It’s alright. I remember what it was like as a kid, rough housing with your friends,” he said with a reminiscent smile. “But try and keep it down,” Burt said, eyeing all three of them. “I mean, I get you’re young and you like staying up as long as you can, but some of us have work tomorrow, so indoor voices. Understood?”

            “Yes, Dad,” Kurt said hurriedly, thankful his father stopped the fight but upset that he was embarrassing him by using words like ‘kid’ and ‘indoor voices’.

            “Yeah,” Puck agreed.

            “Yes, sir,” Sam said a little more respectfully, making Puck roll his eyes.

            “Okay,” Burt said, tightening the belt on his robe. “Good night.” He turned from the kitchen, thinking dreamily of his warm bed and his even warmer wife that awaited for him upstairs, the thought of work the next morning temporarily slipping from his mind.

            “’Night,” they wished him in unison. A tense silence filled Burt’s absence, only broken when Kurt asked Sam to leave so he could talk to Puck.

            “You sure?” Sam asked unsurely, not willing to leave Kurt alone with a previously murderous Puck.

            “You heard him, blondie,” Puck growled. “Get out of here.”

            Sam was going to fire a comeback before Kurt approached him and, placing a soft hand on his arm, pleaded with him to leave it be. Sam nodded and reluctantly left, but not before curling his lip and twitching his nose in disgust in plain view for Puck to see.

            “Thank God that idiot left,” Puck said, drumming his fingers on the counter. He smiled at Kurt, hoping his toothy grin would work its charm and, like many MILFs, Cheerios, and naïve girls before him, he’d melt and forgive Puck for all his past indiscretions. Puck was sadly mistaken.

            Kurt spun on his heel and gave Puck his most murderous glare, making the taller boy shiver a little in fright, though he’d deny it later on if asked. Kurt reached out and, surprisingly for a person of his size, grabbed Puck and dragged him, first out the kitchen and through the living room and dining room, then out the back door and finally into the back yard.

            Flinging Puck from his grip and sending him stumbling Kurt prepared to unleash a verbal torrent onto him the likes of which he’d never heard before.

            “Seriously?” he asked. Seeing Puck’s gaze wander he poked him hard on the chest, earning a little gasp of pain from the mohawked boy. “Seriously?!”

            “Seriously what?” Puck asked, genuinely confused. Kurt knew he made no sense right now, his recent overdose on _Grey’s Anatomy_ partly to blame and partly because of his anger at Puck, but that wasn’t going to stop him from saying whatever popped into his mind, rational or not.

            “What the hell was that in there?” Kurt yelled, gesturing towards the kitchen. Puck was grateful they were outside so that none of the gleeks could hear them but he still worried if Kurt’s neighbors were out of their house and listening in on their conversation.

            “I was just, you know, goofing around,” Puck said, playfully boxing Kurt on the arm. “You know, kidding with my little buddy Sam.”

            “Don’t,” Kurt threatened.

            “Don’t what?” Puck asked again, exasperated.

            “Don’t try and charm or smile your way out of this,” Kurt said seriously. “It’s not going to work.”

            “Fine,” Puck said, all playful pretense gone. “Honestly, the kid was pissing me off all night and then I come downstairs to see you two…”

            “What?” Kurt asked excitedly. “See us what?”

            “I don’t know!” Puck exclaimed. He was again genuinely confused, but instead of being confused as to what Kurt said he was confused as to what was going on in that adolescent, high-school, hormone-rampaged brain of his. “I really don’t know! It’s just…I saw you with him and I wanted to pop his head out of its socket like the Ken doll that he is and – .”

            “ – Wait,” Kurt interrupted, “are you jealous?”

            “What?!” Puck said. He darted his eyes around, looking to see if anyone had heard Kurt say the offending word. He stuffed his hands into his pants pockets, mumbling something undecipherable to Kurt’s ears.

            “What was that?” Kurt demanded. He was shivering in the cool night weather, and the wet dew on the grass was soaking his bare feet. Puck saw him shivering and sighed before rolling his t-shirt over his head and wrapping it around Kurt’s back and shoulders like a cape, leaving him in just a battered wife-beater. Kurt couldn’t help but smile at Puck’s seemingly random act of kindness.

            “I said, ‘Badasses don’t get jealous.’” He wrapped an arm around Kurt and brought him to his side, rubbing the small boy’s arms in an attempt to make him warmer. Kurt bit his lip, unsure if he should be enjoying Puck’s hospitality given what just occurred in the kitchen, and what didn’t occur last night at Burrito’s.

            “Look, Kurt,” Puck said softly, ceasing rubbing Kurt’s arms and instead focusing on transferring as much body heat to the frail countertenor as was possible. “This is all new to me.”

            “The gay thing?” Kurt asked timidly from beneath Puck’s massive bicep.

            “Whoa, no one ever said anything about me being strictly dickly,” Puck said. Kurt rolled his eyes, hoping this conversation stayed as light as possible and didn’t delve into the treacherous waters of what constitutes gay, straight, and the grey-zone of bisexuality. “I was talking more about the…you know, having a boyfriend kind of thing.”

            “Oh,” Kurt said softly.

            “No!” Puck said hurriedly. “Not that, I – I don’t mean it’s _you_ or the whole ‘I’m into dudes, too’ thing, either,” he clarified. “It’s just…I don’t know, I’ve never really had a –,” he was unsure how to finish that sentence without having to use a gender specific term so he said, “I’ve never been in a relationship before.”

            Kurt looked up into Puck’s eyes, catching them just as his gaze slipped away. He knew Puck’s sexual history (hey, every McKinley high student who used the high school restrooms did) and figured he didn’t enjoin in long-lasting relationships with most of them, but to find he’d never been in a serious relationship ever? Well, Kurt hoped his surprise didn’t show on his face.

            “Noah, it’s alright,” Kurt said soothingly. “I’ve never…you’re my…this is all new to me, too.” He pressed himself further into Puck’s side, smiling contentedly when Puck squeezed his arm tighter around Kurt’s delicate frame. Kurt buried his face in Puck’s body and tried burning the musky scent that clung to his clothes and the misty air of the night into his memory, hoping to never forget this moment.

            “So, in there you were – .” Kurt was fishing for an apology and Puck took it hook, line, and sinker.

            “I was an asshole douche,” Puck said resignedly. Kurt grinned and bumped his waist into Puck’s, making the mohawked boy laugh.

            “And – .” Kurt began again.

            “And I’ll apologize to the dork,” Puck sighed. Kurt rolled his eyes and let the name calling slide, figuring this was the closest thing to an apology Noah Puckerman could muster.

            Tiring of standing still Puck picked Kurt up by the waist and pulled him to his chest, twirling him around the backyard like a sack of well-moisturized potatoes. Kurt laughed loudly, Puck not caring if the neighbors heard. Kurt clung tightly to Puck at first, but once they really got going he let go and allowed his arms to fly free above him, loving the feeling of the dark wind in his hair and the sense that he could reach out and grab the stars if he wanted to.

            Puck grew dizzy and let a reluctant Kurt down. He leaned down to kiss the smaller boy, enamored at the sight of Kurt’s brown hair askew and face awash in the moonlight. Before he even got close to his face however, Kurt slipped a delicate foot behind Puck’s left leg and pushed at the weak spot behind his knee, sending Puck tumbling backwards into the dewy grass. Kurt fell gracefully to his knee, aiming it at Puck’s stomach, sending the air rushing out of the mohawked boy’s lungs.

            “Dude,” Puck said painfully, “mood killer.”

            “Where were you last night?” Kurt asked bluntly.

            “What, like, all night?” Puck asked. Kurt put more weight down on his knee, making Puck squirm beneath him. “Okay! Okay! I was babysitting my little sister, Rebekah, alright?”

            “Did you forget about something else you had planned?” Kurt asked. Seeing Puck’s clueless face he elaborated, “Like a certain dinner, perhaps?”

            “Shit,” Puck said under his breath. Feeling Kurt about to lean more onto his stomach he hurriedly said, “No! No! I forgot okay! Shit, I’m so sorry! Fuck!”

            “Why didn’t you call me or answer any of my texts?” Kurt eyed Puck unsurely, not willing to believe this story that ‘he forgot’ so easily.

            “My little sister threw my phone in the dishwasher,” Puck explained. “I didn’t even find it until this morning.”

            “A likely story,” Kurt said, gently pressing more weight onto Puck’s stomach, making his cheeks swell with escaping air.

            “Ask my sister! She’ll tell you! Or my ma! She made me babysit last minute when she got called in to cover a shift at the diner,” Puck whined. “I’m not lying! I honestly forgot! Come on, Princess, you got to believe me!” Seeing Puck close to tears and not wanting to go to jail for something as mundane as manslaughter (if he was going to get arrested he was going to go out with a bang, like stealing the Crown jewels or being so incredibly fashionable and fabulous the entire nation decided to imprison him rather than face the prospect of competing with his beauty day after day, something like that) he shifted his weight off Puck’s stomach.

            “This isn’t over,” Kurt promised. He got off of Puck, earning him a wheezy and grateful ‘Thank you!’ After Puck caught his breath Kurt rolled his eyes and jutted out a reluctant hand, a peace gesture signaling the end of hostilities, especially after the tumultuous last couple of days. Puck grinned and took it. Kurt pulled Puck off the ground and, just when he was in that perilous place between lying completely horizontal and standing on his own two feet Kurt let him go, a vengeful smile playing at his lips as he heard his body fall to the ground with a thud.

            “That’s what you get for standing me up,” Kurt teased, his face hovering a foot over Puck’s. His pride hurt, Puck pulled Kurt down and, had it been a friend or stranger, would have ended their life there, but seeing as how it was Kurt ( _his_ Kurt, though he’d yet to say that outside of the confines of his mind) he settled for death by tickling. Kurt laughed loudly as Puck clutched for any unprotected part of his body with bent fingers, scratching at them vigorously. Kurt tried his best to fend off Puck’s tickles but he proved too strong for the small brunette’s weak defenses. Kurt even attempted to slip from Puck’s grip but the Jewish boy clung to him tightly, and the two ended up wrestling lightly, rolling around on the grass as dark green stains coated the backs of their shirts and pants. Tiring slightly Puck let Kurt win, the small victorious boy straddling his broad chest and pinning his muscled forearms above his head, his sweet breath hitting Puck’s face in ragged jolts. Puck grinned and Kurt leaned down, resting his forehead on Puck’s slightly sweating brow. Kurt locked eyes with Puck before pressing his lips to his, enjoying the kiss despite Puck’s chapped lips and the stubble that scratched lightly at his upper lip. Kurt pulled back from Puck, staring lovingly at the boy that had filled his life with both hope and despair in the few days he’d been a part of it. The highs and lows, the joy and sorrow, Kurt could traverse them all because they came along with loving Puck, and also because those trials and tribulations made Kurt feel alive.

            “One question,” Kurt asked as Puck nuzzled his cheek. “Why ‘Princess’?”

            “Because,” Puck began, tracing warm kisses along Kurt’s jaw line, “you’re a daddy’s boy, you always get your way, and,” he said, taking Kurt’s chin and tilting his head down to meet his gaze, “as long as you’re with me, I’ll treat you like royalty.”

            Kurt rolled his eyes. “What a line,” he sighed, resting his weight on Puck’s body. Puck could feel the damp grass soaking his thin wife-beater and, ignoring it because of the immensely favorable warmth on his front, voiced his sincerity.

            “I mean it,” he whispered into Kurt’s ear. He could feel the small boy melt into his body and, for that second, beneath the twinkling stars and pale moonlight, with the cool breeze sweeping the sweet smell of the night over their entangled forms, away from the outside world and all its judgments and criticisms, Puck felt completely at ease with having another guy resting on his chest.

            Puck could hear Kurt’s even breathing from where he was laying on his muscled chest. Looking down his suspicions were confirmed and Kurt was indeed asleep, probably intoxicated by both the night and the company. He knew he’d have to carry Kurt inside, not having the heart to wake him, but instead of going in immediately he wrapped his arms around the first boy he allowed himself to say he might have feelings for, gazing wonderingly at the night sky above him. In that moment he felt content, and he regretted knowing he’d have to break it soon and join the world they’d been able to keep at bay while in their own world in the backyard.

            While Puck and Kurt lie peacefully at rest a singular pair of familiar eyes followed their every move from the kitchen window, both shocked and at the same time chastising themselves for not realizing sooner something that was so blatantly obvious.


	9. Damage Control

            Rachel Berry was anxious. She tried her best to distract herself all weekend from what she’d seen Friday night at Kurt’s sleepover, but she couldn’t purge the image of Kurt and Puck kissing from her mind. Try as she might, no matter how many musicals she watched, or how many SAT prep books she poured into her brain, no matter how loudly she blared _Barbara Streisand’s Greatest Hits_ , the image remained.

            It wasn’t that she was disgusted. On the contrary, having two gay dads ensured she was used to such displays of affection. In fact, until age four she had been convinced that all boys married boys and girls were just supposed to be their friends. It wasn’t until she enrolled in Hebrew school the next year and got her first kiss from Jeremiah Goldman that she understood some boys married girls, too. So it wasn’t revulsion that kept the image of Puck and Kurt burned into her retinas; it was the fact that it was _Noah Puckerman_ , her ex-boyfriend and all around ladies’ man, _kissing_ _Kurt Hummel_ that threw her for a loop. And more than that she knew it was a very secret thing she’d witnessed, and she’d have to keep it under wraps; which, if you knew anything about Rachel, was very difficult. She had this propensity to say things she didn’t intend to, blurting out secrets and gossip as if she had Tourette’s. The whole weekend her fingers reached for her cell phone, itching to tell someone else what she knew. Eventually she had to have her dads hide it, along with her computer, so that she wouldn’t be tempted to divulge the secret eating her up inside.

            On Monday she kept her head down, not looking anyone in the eye, afraid she’d accidentally let slip out that Puck and Kurt were together. She stayed quiet in class, biting her lips and sitting on her hands, her eyes tearing at the secret burning inside her. She couldn’t concentrate, instead staring at the clock, eager for the day to be over. She was relieved when the bell finally rang, eager to get home and away from other people, when she realized it was only the end of her first class. The day had barely begun.

            Rachel nearly cried in frustration when she realized she still had the majority of the day to go. Exiting her class, she hugged her binder close to her chest and stared at the ground as she rushed past throngs of students, hurrying to study hall. She wondered how she was going to get through this next period, knowing full well she’d promised Brittany she’d help her study for her History test. Just as she considered ditching Brittany just to be safe, the ditzy blonde tapped her on the shoulder.

            Rachel had barely turned around when she blurted out, “Noah and Kurt kissed!” Instantly she felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, as if her stomach wasn’t wrapped in a vice and her mouth was free from steel wiring. But just as soon as the feeling of liberation flooded her body a great guilt crept up inside her, making her feel bad for telling someone what obviously was none of her business.

            “I – you didn’t hear that from me,” Rachel said, her eyes wide with regret.

            “Wait, then who just told me?” Brittany said, confused.

            “No, I mean…you can’t tell anyone what I just told you,” Rachel whispered to Brittany conspiratorially, looking around the library to see if anyone was listening to their conversation.

            “Why not? Is it a secret?” Brittany asked again.

            “Well, yes,” Rachel said, wondering why Brittany wasn’t as shocked as she expected her to be.

            “But I already knew about it,” Brittany said off-handedly.

            “You did?!” Rachel gasped. “Who else knows?”

            “I don’t know,” Brittany shrugged, “I only figured it out because I’ve watched _Flipper_ and _Brokeback Mountain_ together so many times I can see a dolphin from a mile away, and Puck looks just like one with his mohawk, so of course he’d get with Kurt. Dolphins are just gay sharks, you know.”

            Rachel squinted her eyes at Brittany, wondering how someone who was usually so clueless could be so sensitive to this. “Regardless of whether you knew or not, I think it’s best we keep it to ourselves.”

            “I _was_ keeping it to myself. You’re the one who told me,” Brittany reminded her. Rachel huffed in frustration.

            “Okay! I shouldn’t have told you,” Rachel conceded. “Let’s just get started prepping you for your History test.”

            Brittany opened her notebook and passed a sheet of notes to Rachel. “Lord Tubbington helped me with the Ancient History part. He really made it clear to me,” Brittany announced confidently.

            “Brittany, the Trojan War wasn’t fought over condoms,” Rachel said gently. Looking at the glassy-eyed blonde, she wondered how in the world Brittany figured out what was going on between Puck and Kurt before she did.

**glee**

            Glee Club was supposed to serve as a distraction from their everyday problems, but that day Rachel couldn’t help but steal glances at Puck and Kurt throughout the lesson as all three of them were sitting in the back row, although Rachel was a few seats away from them. Puck had his arm slung over the back of Kurt’s chair, and Rachel could see that Puck would tickle the back of Kurt’s ear whenever Mr. Schue had his back to the group, making the brunette giggle and swat Puck playfully on the arm. In turn, she spied Kurt rest his hand on Puck’s thigh too often to be a friendly gesture, and once or twice Puck rested his hand on the same outstretched hand, turning it over and rubbing Kurt’s palm with his thumb.

            Rachel rocked back on forth in her chair while sitting on her hands, resisting the temptation to raise them and inadvertently “out” Puck and Kurt as a couple. She saw the confused looks from Artie and Mercedes as they turned their heads to see why she was being so quiet, and Tina and Brittany asked if she was okay more than once throughout the lesson. Meanwhile Quinn eyed Rachel suspiciously, wondering if the usually mouthy girl’s silence was apart of a bigger scheme to win Finn back. The rest of the club was just happy to speak without being interrupted for once.

            In the middle of Mr. Schuester prattling on about Regionals, Rachel jumped up and announced she had to use the bathroom. Everyone looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. She babbled away about how girls had to use the bathroom in groups before dragging Kurt down the riser and away into the nearest girl’s restroom.

            Kurt ripped his arm away from her surprisingly strong grip, rubbing his wrist while Rachel opened each stall to make sure they were alone. Moving the trash can in front of the door so it was blocked she finally turned to Kurt.

            “I know,” she announced cryptically.

            “That you dress like Anne Frank if she grew up to be a librarian during the Kennedy administration? Thank God. I was afraid we’d have to have you committed,” Kurt said, eyebrow raised in distaste of her outfit.

            “No – wait, is there something wrong with my outfit?” she asked, looking down at her poodle skirt and beige cardigan in puzzlement. Ignoring that for now, she added, “I mean, I know about you and Noah.”

            “What about me and Noah?” Kurt asked, feigning confusion but really trying to master his voice so it didn’t crack from lying.

            “I saw you two kissing at your sleepover,” she said quietly, hoping it wasn’t too much of a shock that someone knew.

            “You didn’t…it wasn’t what it looked - ,” he began to defend himself.

            “Kurt,” Rachel replied gently, “I saw it with my own eyes. You can’t deny it.”

            Kurt furrowed his brows together in worry. He knew Rachel was a gossiper; he only hoped she hadn’t told that many people so he could at least get a hold of the situation and rein it in before it spun out of control. Because if too many people heard about it, or their was even a rumor going around suggesting Puck and Kurt were an item…well, Kurt remembered all too vividly what happened in the bathroom after Karofsky and Azimio slushied them both in the cafeteria. Their relationship was still new; if Puck had any reason to think someone else knew about it, he’d end it in order to save his reputation. And Kurt couldn’t lose him. Not so soon.

            “Who else knows?” Kurt asked, biting his bottom lip in worry.

            “Brittany,” Rachel said cautiously, gauging Kurt’s reaction. “But I didn’t tell her; she figured it out on her own.”

            “No one besides you two?” Kurt asked. “Not Jacob, not Finn? No one in Glee?”

            “No,” Rachel denied. “I didn’t want to say anything before I got the whole story. Wait, does that mean that you and Noah are - .”

            “ – What Noah and I are is none of your business,” Kurt hissed, his voice lowered should anyone hear them in the echoing bathroom. “Look, you didn’t see anything that night, understand? You didn’t see anything, and you didn’t tell anyone, and…just forget that night ever happened.”

            “Alright,” Rachel said meekly. Kurt turned to leave, shoving the trashcan out of his way. Before he opened the door, Rachel called out to him.

            “What?” Kurt asked, his arms crossed in a mixture of anger and worry.

            “I think you and Noah make a lovely couple,” she said, hoping it calmed the boy’s fears. If anything it stirred them up even more. They weren’t a couple. They weren’t anything. They could break-up tomorrow and no one would even know because no one except four people in the entire world knew they were together.

            Kurt stormed out of the bathroom without another word, angry at Rachel for finding out, angry at Puck for making him feel guilty that someone else even knew about them, and angry at himself for being so reckless as to kiss in public like that. When he got back to the choir room, he sat in the front row, as far away from Puck as possible, his arms crossed and his foot tapping against the floor anxiously.


	10. Big Boy Decisions

            Two weeks passed. Two weeks and Puck and Kurt were still together, although their secret relationship stayed just that: a secret. No one outside Puck, Kurt, Brittany, and Rachel knew they were together. Brittany kept the information to herself, never once showing a hint of knowledge (of anything, really), while Rachel was so overdramatic in her trying to show ignorance of the relationship that anyone who paid attention to her could see what she was trying to cover-up. Luckily, no one ever paid Rachel Berry any attention.

            So Puck and Kurt continued dating, no one the wiser to their relationship; that is, if you could call it dating. They never really went out, except to the movies, and even then it was only twice, and both times they entered and left the theater separately. More often than not they simply hung out at Puck’s house when his mom or sister was gone, which was often, or at Kurt’s when it was empty, which was rare. In order to keep it completely secret Puck continued flirting with random girls in the hallways, making Kurt see red on more than one occasion, but he kept his anger in check by telling himself it was he who Puck cared for, and it was his bedroom who Puck snuck into nearly every night of the week. They hadn’t gone all the way, a fact which surprised Kurt when he realized Puck wasn’t pressuring him. Tentatively and casually one afternoon while Kurt was helping Puck with his homework, he broached the subject of their sex life (or lack of one).

            “Do you…,” Kurt found trouble even starting the conversation. “Do you think about sex?”

            “Babe, I’m a seventeen year old guy. I spend less time _not_ thinking about sex,” Puck said from where he was seated on Kurt’s bedroom floor. “Why do you ask?”

            “I don’t know,” Kurt said, his face burning red. He refused to look up from where he was finishing his homework on his desk. “I was just thinking about us.”

            “Yeah,” Puck said, his interest in the conversation suddenly peaking.

            “Don’t you miss it?” Kurt deflected, unable to say what he’d meant to, instead trying to figure out Puck’s view on the subject. “Do you miss not being able to…do it?”

            “Sometimes,” Puck said. Kurt shot him a knowing look. “Okay, all the time,” Puck corrected. “But I’m with you now. And I like you, and I’m willing to wait until you’re ready.”

            Touched by Puck’s words, Kurt couldn’t help but blurt out, “I think I’m ready.” He looked up to see whether his words had any effect on Puck. Without even raising his glance all the way he could see the lust shining in Puck’s eyes.

            “Well what are we waiting for?” Puck asked excitedly, throwing his homework across the room and lifting Kurt from the desk. He threw Kurt on the bed, ripping his own shirt off and joining him in less time than Kurt had to react.

            “Whoa!” Kurt said, pressing his hand to Puck’s naked chest and laughing at his enthusiasm. “I didn’t mean now.”

            “Seriously?” Puck asked, his lip drooping in disappointment.

            “I meant I’m ready, but not today,” Kurt said, stroking Puck’s cheek. He kissed him lightly on the lips, hoping to take away the teen’s sense of frustration. “I have no intention of losing my virginity on a school night out of sheer boredom.”

            “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Puck growled, working his hands underneath Kurt’s shirt and licking all over his neck.

            “Noah,” Kurt said, trying to draw his attention. He pulled Puck’s hands out from under his shirt and worked his way out of his grip. “I want it to be special,” he said seriously.

            Puck sighed. He thought being with another guy would be easy; being with Kurt was like being with a girl. “You’re right,” he conceded. “You deserve the best.”

            “Really?” Kurt asked, surprised at the ease with which he restrained Puck.

            “Dude, you just said you wanted it to be special,” Puck retorted. Kurt punched him on the arm for that dreaded word, ‘dude’. Though it felt more like a light breeze, Puck still grabbed at his bicep as if Kurt had done real harm to it, if only to stroke the smaller boy’s ego. “Okay, no need to abuse the sexy.”

            “That did not hurt you,” Kurt said, rolling his eyes. “And do you really mean it?”

            “Yeah,” Puck said, wrapping a naked arm around Kurt’s side. Kurt caught a whiff of Puck’s deodorant and musk, and though before he would have found the scent disgusting, he had to admit that the very smell of Puck turned him on. “I mean, I want it to be good for you since it’ll be your first time and all.”

            “It’ll be your first time, too,” Kurt reminded of him. “With a guy, that is. Unless something happened to you in juvie.”

            “Are you kidding?” Puck asked. “Look at these guns. I ran that place. No one touched me unless I gave them permission, which I never did.”

            “Can we try and go a whole conversation without you mentioning your ‘guns’?” Kurt sighed.

            “You love them,” Puck poked. “Come on, admit it. Go on, babe. Give ‘em a kiss.” Puck pressed his arms into Kurt’s face and it took less than a little bit of prodding for him to kiss Puck’s bicep.

            “That was kind of hot,” Puck admitted. He rubbed Kurt’s thigh, inching his way up when Kurt pushed his hand back. Puck fell back into the bed in frustration. “I need to take a cold shower,” he announced.

**glee**

             A few days later Kurt tried to get some of the girls alone to ask them about how they lost their virginity. Kurt, being the meticulous human being that he was, had tried planning his first sexual encounter with Puck when he realized: he had no idea where to start. He barely understood how reproductive hetero sex worked, let alone gay sex, and that coupled with the woefully low number of teachers he felt he could turn to for advice aggravated him greatly.

            He began to ask Mr. Schue about it when he arrived early to a Glee rehearsal one day, but he lost his nerve and somehow diverted the conversation to the annual school musical. He approached Miss Pillsbury, but she sat motionless for a solid five minutes before she handed him pamphlets on abstinence and STDs and safe-sex, confusing his already tangled mind, and then finally shooing him out the door as she sprayed herself with Lysol. He even found the nerve to ask his old Cheerio coach Sue Sylvester, but he’d barely uttered the word ‘sex’ when she began a diatribe on the ‘useless pastime, fit only for convicts and the French’ before stuffing his hands with birth control and shouting for Becky to lead him out of the room. To say he was frustrated was an understatement.

            So he turned to his peers, hoping they would have some good advice for him. As luck would have it, all the Glee girls had arrived early to the choir room to rehearse a Pussy-Cat Dolls number when Kurt strode in. It wasn’t until he had nearly begun the conversation when he spied Sam in the corner of the room as well.

            “Oh, Sam,” Kurt sighed, setting his bag down disappointedly. “I didn’t see you there.”

            “How did you miss that bright neon hair and those large Pamela Anderson-sized lips?” Santana quipped.

            “We’re not going out anymore, Santana,” Sam reminded her. “You can’t talk to me like that.”

            “Sure I can, Trouty Mouth,” Santana scoffed, flipping the page of the magazine she was perusing.

            “Wait, when did you two call it quits?” Mercedes chimed in.

            “Like a week ago,” Santana said casually. “Didn’t you read my tweet about it?”

            “That’s how I found out,” Sam said, more happy than he should have sounded for someone who just broke up. The girls simply stared at Santana as they realized this is how she’d dumped him.

            “What? Was I supposed to throw him a party or something?”

            “Maybe telling him publicly like that wasn’t the way to go,” Tina said.

            “Whatever,” Santana shrugged. Sam simply shrugged as well, pulling out his Nintendo 3DS and starting a game of Pokémon.

            Kurt stood there awkwardly as the girls got up to stretch for their performance. “Is there something you needed, Kurt?” Mercedes asked. Kurt looked anxiously at Sam before meeting the understanding eyes of the girls. No one had the heart to chase Sam out until Santana realized what was going on. 

            “Yo, Pikachu! Go catch ‘em all somewhere else,” Santana snapped.

            “You can’t - ,” Sam began angrily.

            “ – Actually, Sam,” Kurt interrupted, “would you mind giving me a minute alone with the girls?” Seeing the hurt look on Sam’s face tugged at Kurt’s heartstrings. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. What’s your favorite cookie? I’ll bake you a million of them and then - .”

            “It’s cool, Kurt,” Sam said brightly, rising from his chair and patting the countertenor on the back. “I’ll catch you guys later,” he said as he exited the choir room.

            “You don’t have to be so mean to Sam, Santana,” Tina said. “He’s like a harmless puppy.”

            “Yeah, San,” Quinn added. “Sam’s so nice to everyone. Why do you treat him like that?”

            “Mostly because he lets me,” Santana said, sinking down into a split at the same time as Brittany. “So what do you want, Hummel?”

            “Well, actually…” Kurt stuttered, “this is…a lot harder than I thought.”

            “That’s what she said,” Brittany said, earning a high five from both Tina and Santana. The room erupted into laughter, with even Kurt joining in.

            “Thank you, Britt, for breaking the ice,” Kurt bowed to the smiling blonde. “That was actually what I wanted to talk to you all about. How did you…what happened when, I mean, how was it when…Sex!” he blurted out, his face immediately burning red.

            “Oh snap,” Santana smiled from where she was stretching her hamstrings on the floor. “Hummel wants to get some advice on how to do the nasty.”

            “It’s not…only that,” Kurt choked out. “I would also appreciate it if you all could recount exactly how you felt when you lost your virginity.”

            “Well, my legs were behind my head like this,” Brittany said, pulling her legs back so she was in a pretzel shape. “And he thrust into me here, but he missed and it accidentally went up my a-.”

            “- If you could be much less graphic and…explicit, that would also be greatly appreciated as well,” Kurt added to the room.

            “How the hell am I supposed to remember how I felt when I lost my virginity? Who can remember that far back?”Santana asked. Mercedes just rolled her eyes at her comment.

            “Well, you know I’m single, party of one,” Mercedes said, raising her hand dejectedly.  “No sex for this girl.”

            “And I, too, have yet to commit to such an important and irrevocably monumental act,” Rachel chimed in from where she was sitting at the piano.

            “I guess you all heard about how I lost mine to Puckerman after he got me drunk off wine coolers and told me I looked fat,” Quinn said from where she was sitting on the floor next to Mercedes. Kurt cast his eyes down at the reminder that Quinn was yet another notch on Puck’s belt.

            “Yup, I think that was my first tweet ever,” Santana announced. Quinn simply glared at her.

            “Well, my first time was special,” Tina said proudly. All the girls ‘awwed’ over her statement, with Santana rolling her eyes in the background. “I never thought Mike would even want to; he always seemed like the type to wait until he got married.”

            “When did it happen?” Mercedes asked.

            “It was during Asian summer camp. We’d already been going out for a few months when one night he snuck in some pizza, which wasn’t allowed in camp because Italians and Asians hate each other ever since they stole noodles from us a thousand years ago and renamed it ‘pasta’. Anyway, we ate it outside under the stars, and we got drunk off wine and 7-Up, and then we went skinny dipping and he told me he loved me.” The girls and Kurt hung on to every word as she narrated her story. “And then…we did it,” she said, blushing and burying her face in her arms as all the girls laughed and clapped and hooted catcalls at her.

            “Was it wonderful?” Kurt asked, his head resting on his arm as he sat and looked Tina with a newfound sense of respect.

            “It really was,” Tina said, squeezing herself in a rush of remembrance of the night. “I mean, it hurt at first, but he was so gentle and sweet. And then once we really got into it, it was like he awoke something in me…down there,” she whispered shyly.

            “Wanky,” said Santana, licking her lips seductively.

            “I remember how much it hurt, too,” Brittany reminisced. “But Tina’s right. Once you get past that it gets so much better.”

            “Y’all are making me jealous,” spat Mercedes.

            “You know you could always do some self-service,” Santana quipped, diddling her fingers in the air for show. Mercedes chuckled before slapping Santana’s hands away, the two girls laughing at her antics.

            “I don’t even remember if my first time hurt,” Quinn said, her head tilted as she tried to recall the night. “I know I felt – invaded, and a little sore afterwards, but I can’t remember what happened during.”

            “So the tales of Puck’s sexual prowess are all urban legends?” Mercedes asked.

            “No, I can attest to that boy’s prowess, and believe me when I say he is more than gifted in the sack,” Santana said, Brittany nodding eagerly behind her. Kurt’s stomach dropped as the realization sank in that not only was Puck more experienced, but he was also apparently very good at this sex thing.

            “I guess it was the alcohol,” Quinn shrugged, her eyes glazed over as she tried to piece together an invisible puzzle only she could see.

            “Alcohol actually made my first time good,” Tina recalled. “It sort of stripped away our inhibitions and made us more comfortable around each other.”

            “Wait a minute,” Santana said, interrupting the conversation. “Are we missing something here? Why are you so interested in sex all of a sudden?” Santana eyed Kurt skeptically before saying, “Did Hummel finally discover craigslist?”

            “No!” Kurt exclaimed, shocked that she would think he would resort to prostitution.

            “So who is it?” Santana asked deviously. The rest of the girls looked at Kurt expectantly, waiting to hear a name. He glanced at Rachel out of the corner of his eye, hoping she wouldn’t crack or show any evidence of knowing who he was talking about.

            “It was just a question,” Kurt began. “I was curious.”

            “You can tell us, Kurt,” Quinn said comfortingly. “We won’t tell anyone.”

            “Unless Satan over here get’s a sudden itch to tweet,” Mercedes said, gesturing to Santana.

            “Oh yeah!” Santana said excitedly, whipping out her cell phone. Brittany grabbed it and threw it out into the hall, a deafening crack signaling its breaking.

            “We won’t tell anyone,” Brittany reassured him, glaring at Santana. “Right?”

            Cowering shamefully under Brittany’s glare, Santana rolled her eyes before adding a reluctant, “Right.”

            Kurt could feel himself shrinking under their gaze. He hadn’t really thought that far ahead beyond working up the courage to ask his friends about their first time; everything beyond that was just a hazy mist in his mind. Now, with all of their questioning eyes on him, he wished he’d planned further ahead.

            “It was just a simple questionnaire he needed for his Statistics class,” Rachel chimed in. “Right, Kurt?”

            “Oh. Yes! Absolutely,” Kurt said, readily agreeing to Rachel’s excuse.

            “Why didn’t you just say that?” Santana asked curiously.

            “He forgot,” Rachel added, coming to Kurt’s rescue again. “So girls, about this performance - .”

            “You should just go to the library if you want information about sex,” Brittany said. “That’s where I learned about scissoring.” At this she and Santana shared knowing smirks.

            “Thanks, Brittany. I think I’ll do that,” Kurt said, getting to his feet and using that as a good excuse to escape from the choir room. “Thank you all for your input. I will be sure to include this on my…report,” he added, accidentally knocking into a chair on the way out. The girls continued to stare at him, Santana especially, as he finally walked into the bright lights of the hall.

            Wiping the sweat from his brow he walked to his car, intent on getting all the information he needed in order to be ready for his night with Puck, even if it meant going to the most detestable place in Lima: the public library.


	11. Someone Like Me

            Kurt parked his car in front of the Lima Public Library, mentally bracing himself for the journey inside. As he stood in front of the decrepit gray building he wondered why he didn’t just go to the nearest Barnes & Noble before remembering that there might be people he actually knew there, and the last thing he wanted was to be caught with _The Idiot’s Guide to Gay Sex_ by one of his dad’s mechanics or a lunch lady. So instead he strode towards the building. When he reached the large statue of Lewis and Clark out front he thought he was in the clear, but suddenly out of nowhere a filthy hand wrapped around his bag and he was face-to-face with the reason why the library was so abhorrent to so many people.

            “Patches, let go of me this instant!” Kurt yelled, pulling his messenger bag out of the homeless man’s clutches.

            “Do you have any spare change?” screamed the beggar. “Sing you a song for a dollar. _Ole man river, that ole man river, he just keeps flowing…”_

“Patches, I don’t have any money,” Kurt cried, pulling his bag out from Patches’ grip, which was surprisingly strong for someone who was supposedly starving. “Please just let me go.”

            “How about a classic? _Skyscraper’s bloom in America, Cadillac’s zoom in America, Industry boom in America,”_ he sang in a high falsetto, “ _Twelve in a room in America!”_ he finished in a comically low bass.

            “Do not insult Steven Sondheim by doing a one man version of _West Side Story_ ,” Kurt spat, still struggling to free his bag from the homeless man.

            “Sondheim? You know theater?” Patches asked, his grip on the bag slackening but by no means slipping.

            “Of course I know theater, I’m in the Glee Club,” Kurt said. He knew almost instantly that he’d said the wrong thing.

            “GLEE CLUB!” Patches screamed. “Glee Club is evil! Death to Glee Club! Death to all music majors!”

            “How dare you!” Kurt screamed, still wrestling with him for his bag. “I plan to major in music when I enter college.”

            At this announcement Patches let out a war cry, pulling Kurt’s bag from the countertenor’s grasp and flinging it far away from his reach. He then launched himself at Kurt, who let out a very feminine scream before running away. Patches chased Kurt around the statue, Kurt screaming as if it were a horror movie, trying his best to avoid being captured by the deranged ex-Glee club member.

            “Hey!” yelled a young boy dressed in bright clothing who’d come out to investigate the commotion. “What’s going on here?”

            “Call the police!” Kurt yelled from behind a nearby tree. Seeing Patches come running towards him he darted in the opposite direction. “He’s going to kill me and make a prairie skirt out of my skin! Help!”

            Just as Kurt ran past, the boy pulled out a spray bottle and sprayed Patches on the face as he ran past as well. “Bad Patches!” the boy reprimanded. He sprayed him again when Patches growled. “You know better.”

            “Sorry, Blaine,” Patches grunted. He slumped over to where Kurt’s bag was thrown and picked it up before returning it to the exhausted countertenor. “Sorry,” he said to Kurt. Kurt pulled his bag from his grip, clutching it tightly to his chest as if it were a child.

            “Patches, go wash yourself up. And stop rolling around in the dirt!” he called out to him as Patches disappeared into the library. “Sorry about him. He gets a kick out of scaring the patrons. He’s really a harmless old janitor when he’s well medicated.”

            Kurt hadn’t noticed the boy before, but now that his life was no longer in mortal danger he could finally drink him in. He looked to be about Kurt’s age, though he was a little shorter than him. He had jet black hair that was slicked into a side part, and he wore the most adorable lime green vest over a checkered salmon-colored shirt, with orange slacks and a matching set of white shoes and a white belt to finish the ensemble. But the tie, however; the tie is what really caught Kurt’s eye.

            “Oh my Gaga,” Kurt gasped as he saw the bow tie around the boy’s neck. “Is that…is that a genuine Marc Jacobs for Hermès silk bow tie with authentic gold reposée artwork, made from leftover scraps of material that he used for the Sofia Coppola movie classic _Marie Antoinette_?”

            “I don’t know,” the boy said, looking down at his bow tie as best he could. “I found it in a Goodwill shop a few weeks ago. Is it valuable?”

            “Is it...” Kurt could barely choke out a sentence, aghast that he found such a collectible in Goodwill of all places.

            “I’m just kidding, dummy,” the boy joked, pushing Kurt playfully on the shoulder, “it is a Marc Jacobs. And I didn’t find it at Goodwill. I found it on eBay; and it would have been a steal, too, if some kid hadn’t jacked up the prices by entering into a bidding war with me.”

            This all sounded very familiar to Kurt. “Wait, are you Songbird94?” Kurt asked tentatively.

            “Yeah,” the boy said apprehensively. “How did you know that?”

            “I’m GaGaGlamourous93!” Kurt announced. “I bid on that tie.”

            “Oh, so you’re the one who made me pay nearly five times the asking price,” the boy said.

            “I doubt paying twenty dollars for a one-of-a-kind Marc Jacobs tie was too much,” Kurt scoffed. “And just so you know, I would have won that bidding war if my brother hadn’t knocked out the power to my house, thus crushing my dreams of owning a piece of fashion history.”

            “Tell you what,” the boy said, un-strapping the tie from where it was tied around his neck. “You can have it.”

            “No!” Kurt gasped, seeing him pull the tie off. “I could never -.”

            “I’m not giving it to you,” the boy clarified, his smile brightening even as he realized Kurt had mistaken his intention. “It’s a loan. I expect it back in showroom quality.”

            “I’ll guard this with my life,” Kurt said, clutching the tie to his chest.

            “I don’t doubt it,” the boy said, looking over Kurt’s outfit. “I can tell from your incredible fashion sense that you will take good care of my baby.”

            “Thank you…um, I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name,” Kurt said embarrassed.

            “I’m Blaine Anderson,” the boy said, extending his hand out for a good-natured shake. “I’m the head librarian here,” he said.

            “Kurt Hummel,” he said, introducing himself in turn. “Aren’t you a little young to be in charge?” Kurt asked.

            “Well, technically I’m just an aide, but I like to think I run the place,” Blaine said confidently. “So Kurt, what can I do for you today?”

            Remembering what he was doing there made Kurt blush. He stumbled over his words for a little while before Blaine put a friendly arm on his shoulder and led him into the building.

            “Don’t worry about it,” Blaine said, leading him past row after row of books and magazines. Kurt was surprised to see the library had been updated since he was last there. There were no longer strange stains on the carpet, and the smell of musty books had been replaced with a warm oaky scent. Even the books seemed to be newer and shinier, and the tables and chairs there looked so comfortable and inviting. Blaine stopped before a particular shelf and Kurt stood by his side. Kurt read the heading of the section they were in his cheeks nearly burned him to death they were so red with embarrassment.

            “‘Gay Interest’. Am I that obvious?” Kurt asked.

            “Only because I have excellent gaydar,” Blaine quipped. “Besides, it takes one to know one.”

            Kurt stared in shock at Blaine. He’d never met another gay guy before, well, let alone someone his age, or one who introduced themselves so confidently and assuredly. Then again there was Puck, but the mohawked boy still had trouble claiming he was anything but straight.

            “Close your mouth, dummy, or else a fly set up camp in there,” Blaine smiled, pushing Kurt’s chin up so his jaw was no longer slackened.

            “I’m sorry,” Kurt said, ashamed at his open display of surprise. “It’s just…I’ve never met someone like – .”

            “Someone like you?” Blaine finished for him. “Yeah, I get that a lot. There are more of us, you know. It just sucks living in a small town.”

            “Wait, how do I not know you from school?” Kurt asked.

            “You go to McKinley?” Blaine asked. When Kurt nodded in the affirmative, Blaine said, “I go to Dalton Academy. It’s an all-boy’s private school out in **Westerville**.”

            “I think I’ve heard of you,” Kurt said. “I believe w3e’re competing against you at Regionals.”

            “You’re in show choir?!” Blaine said excitedly, earning a few disapproving looks from the people reading near them. When Kurt nodded Blaine couldn’t contain his glee. “Oh my God, you’re my new best friend! I’ve been dying to meet someone outside of the Warblers who does show choir. Those guys can be such sticklers for tradition. I’ve really wanted to meet someone who could show me a different side of music.”

            “Well, you found him,” Kurt said, smiling in spite of himself. “I must say, it is refreshing to meet someone like me.”

            “You’re not alone, kid,” Blaine said brightly. “So I assume I brought you to the right place?”

            Looking up at the tall shelf of books before him, Kurt immediately felt less alone in the world. There had to be hundreds, maybe thousands, of books on the shelf, which stretched nearly the entire length of the library’s back wall. And there weren’t any protesters or picketers denouncing the books, or calling for them to be burnt. They were simply there, waiting to be read by questioning or curious youths, such as himself, or anyone who needed a better explanation of gay life. Aside from gay history and a large area of nonfiction books, a few which were solely about past and recent court cases, there was a sizeable selection of gay fiction, and a section devoted to gay authors as well. Kurt was overwhelmed.

            “Well, you do have quite the selection,” Kurt said, fingering each title that lay before him.

            “It’s sort of my little collection,” Blaine said proudly. “Ever since my parents bought the library – .”

            “ – Your parents _bought_ the library?” Kurt wondered if Blaine would ever cease to surprise him.

            “Well, not so much ‘bought’ as they became the sole benefactors,” Blaine said, a little embarrassed at his parent’s affluence. “Since the city sort of put library and park maintenance on the back burner, my parents stepped up and paid to have the whole interior remodeled, and the exterior should be renovated pretty soon. And they let me have final say on all book choices.” Blaine motioned for Kurt to come closer, so he could whisper the next part conspiratorially. “I stuck all the Republican books on the second floor with the tax references. No one will ever find them.” At this he and Kurt shared a generous laughing fit.

            When they regained their composure Kurt turned back to the daunting shelf before him, hoping to find a book that would help him without Blaine knowing. Maybe he could come back when Blaine wasn’t working and check it out then.

            “It’d be a lot easier if you simply told me what you were looking for,” Blaine said, not missing the quick scan of the shelf Kurt was doing with his eyes.

            “I can’t,” Kurt said embarrassedly. “It’s too humiliating.”

            “It can’t be that bad,” Blaine said soothingly. Kurt figured he could trust the boy, despite knowing him a full ten minutes, and so confided in him the reason as to why he was there. Blaine laughed heartily at that.

            “Thank you for being so sensitive about this rather delicate issue,” Kurt deadpanned.

             “No,” Blaine said, choking back a laugh, “it’s just, you look so innocent, like a baby penguin. I would never have thought you would want a sex book.”

            “I would appreciate your discretion on the matter,” Kurt said warningly, his eyes flashing.

            “Okay,” Blaine said, still suppressing a chuckle. He walked forward and quickly grabbed a few books, looking over them carefully before deciding they weren’t the ones he wanted and then replacing them with new selections. “These…yeah, these are the ones,” he said to no one in particular. He then turned to Kurt and said, “These are pretty much all you need to know about gay sex.”

            “Must you be so loud?” Kurt nearly shrieked.

            “Relax, no one here cares about that stuff,” Blaine said, shrugging off Kurt’s worry. “Come on, I can check you out. So, who’s the lucky guy?”

            “No one,” Kurt snapped.

            “I see,” Blaine said, scanning the books for Kurt. “Well, make sure you and ‘no one’ get these books back by the 23rd. I doubt you’d want to receive a notice in the mail that _Enjoying Anal_ and _The Mysteries of the Prostate_ was overdue. Oh, and here’s my number. Call me and we can get a drink at the Lima Bean sometime, and maybe then I can pick your brain over some show choir performances I thought up.”

            “Thank you, Blaine,” Kurt said sincerely. “You’ve somehow made this simultaneously comforting and humiliating.”

            “No problem,” Blaine said, waving Kurt off. “And remember to keep it clean.”

            “I’m sure there’s a whole chapter in one of these books dedicated to…cleaning myself,” Kurt said blushingly.

            Blaine laughed. “Actually I was referring to my bowtie, but yeah, make sure you do that, too.”

            Kurt walked out of the library incredibly embarrassed, but not before smacking a now clean Patches on the head with his bag.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            


	12. Little Brother's Big Advice

            In his bed that night Kurt poured over the many books before him, a little overwhelmed at the titles and covers. In truth he didn’t even know where to start, so he picked a book at random and simply flipped through it, trying to absorb as many details and facts as possible. One book in particular was especially graphic, and didn’t detail how to prepare oneself for gay sex so much as give different positions on how to have gay sex; and each position was accompanied by a photograph of two very handsome men engaged in the described act. Kurt found himself with an uncomfortable erection in his very tight jeans, and though he tried to ignore it and continue on with what he dubbed ‘studying’ he found it very hard (no pun intended) to disregard. He knew he shouldn’t be turned on by those men; well, he _should_ , because he was a gay teenager after all, but seeing those men always filled him with an inexpressible guilt. He couldn’t even look at porn without wondering ‘That’s somebody’s child’ and ‘What would their parents think?’ and ‘Why would they schedule a plumber to arrive while they’re seducing the gardener?’. He got turned on by porn, but it was an uncomfortable sort of excitement that left his dick rock hard but not exactly begging to be touched. He found his imagination to be much more enjoyable. Dreaming of scenes of romance, of white knights and dashing pirates, or dancing gangsters and singing army men; that’s what really got him off. Because contrary to popular belief Kurt Hummel did masturbate. Not everyday, and not simply because he was bored or procrastinating; but when he did, he always made sure it was incredibly pleasurable and so far he’d never experienced an unpleasant or lacking orgasm. Each time felt like a little death.

            So he figured embarking on this…next step with Puck could only feel ten – no – a thousand times better than how it normally felt with his right hand and his very expensive facial cream (he tried jerking off with generic lotion and it did not agree with his sensitive skin, leaving him chaffing for days). He felt it was detrimental to their as yet undefined relationship that everything go smoothly. If anything scared off Puck from their first time, Kurt knew there’d be no way he could get him back. And losing him was not an option. Happiness didn’t come often to Kurt Hummel, so he figured he would do anything to keep it when it came, even if it meant losing his virginity when in truth he wasn’t even comfortable looking at _himself_ naked yet.

            He was looking up a certain position in the book that apparently needed a three page foldout. While he was busy admiring the flexibility of who he’d learned was termed the ‘bottom’ he hadn’t heard the door to his bedroom open. He barely heard Finn walking towards his bed when he immediately stuffed the books under his blanket.

            “Hey, am I bothering you?” Finn asked, accompanied by a large plate of cookies and two mugs of warm milk, which he’d somehow gotten upstairs without spilling.

            “No, not at all,” Kurt said, shoving the books and the blanket onto the floor to make room for Finn. The taller boy hadn’t missed the crash of the books as they hit the ground.

            “What was that?”  he asked, looking at the blanket-covered pile on the floor.

            “What was what?” asked Kurt, sipping his milk nonchalantly.

            “Whatever,” Finn shrugged. The two boys sat and drank their milk in silence for a while before Kurt asked him what it was he was he wanted. “What, can’t a guy hang out with his little bro without questions? I missed you. You’ve been gone a lot lately, where do you go all afternoon?”

            “I told you, I’m taking an SAT prep class,” Kurt lied. He noticed Finn’s suspicious stare and decided to deflect should he grow unsatisfied with his lie. He looked over the tray of cookies Finn brought up. “Look at this, you even brought me the fruit biscuit wafers I eat instead of cookies. How thoughtful,” Kurt smiled. “That means you want something really big,” he said, his smile dropping into a knowing frown.

            “Well, actually…okay, I need some advice,” Finn said, rearranging himself on the bed so that he was sitting cross-legged, which had the unfortunate side-effect of knocking over his mug of milk.

            “I should have seen that coming,” Kurt said, using the napkins Finn brought up to mop up the mess on his bed. “You’re helping me flip my mattress when this is over.”

            “Okay, but this is important,” Finn said.

            “If you’re debating whether or not to go through with the brain transplant with the orangutan, I say go for it,” Kurt advised. “And if anyone asks how you got smarter, just tell them you went to the Wizard and finally got that brain you ordered.”

            “Huh?” Finn sat clueless, unsure of what Kurt was talking about. “Oh, you made a joke, ha ha,” he said, brushing off his brother’s quip. “This is serious though.”

            “Proceed if you must,” Kurt said, leaning back on to his pillow and preparing himself for a long, drawn out conversation where he would no doubt contemplate suicide before the end.

            “Okay, so I have this friend,” Finn began.

            “If this is about you, just say it,” Kurt said. “Don’t hide behind the ‘I have a friend’ thing.”

            “No! Really!” Finn said, exasperated. Seeing Kurt roll his eyes but nod his head he continued. “Okay, so I have this friend who’s dating this girl right now. She’s really pretty, like gorgeous, with great boobs and a really tight a - .”

            “Finn.” Kurt called his straying brother back to reality.

            “Oh, right. Okay, well she’s really pretty is what I’m saying. Anyway, I – ,” Finn looked guiltily at Kurt, “well, _my friend_ that is, has been going out with her for a while now, but lately all he can think about is his ex-girlfriend.”

            “I see,” Kurt said as he noticed this conversation leading itself directly where he knew it would.

            “Yeah, so my friend is wondering what he should do,” Finn said. “He really likes his girlfriend, but he can’t stop thinking about his ex. I mean, yeah, she was a pain sometimes, and really annoying, and he’s pretty sure she caused him to go deaf in one ear for a while, but he can’t help but remember how good it was before. Plus, things with his girlfriend aren’t so great right now. She’s really distant and never returns his calls. He’s pretty sure she’s seeing someone else…” Looking to Kurt he saw his brother was staring listlessly out the window, barely paying attention to him. “Kurt!” Finn called. Kurt turned back to Finn without even jumping.

            “You know what I just realized?” Kurt asked, pinching the bridge of his nose to stop the onset of a migraine he felt approaching. “Straight men should not do ‘girl talk’. It just comes off so whiny.”

            “What?” asked a confused Finn. Kurt sat up and hit him round the back of the head. “Ow!” Finn screamed in pain. “What was that for?”

            “I know you’re talking about Quinn and Rachel, and frankly it’s disgusting,” Kurt spat. “If you’re thinking about breaking up with Quinn, make sure you really want Rachel, otherwise everyone just ends up getting hurt.”

            “You’re right,” Finn said, realization dawning on him. “I should ask Rachel out on a date before I break things off with Quinn to see if our Biology is still there.”

            Once again Kurt rose up in order to hit Finn on the head. “Dude,” Finn winced, rubbing his dome, “I’m pretty sure you’re making me lose most of my memories from before my thirteenth birthday when you hit me there.”

            Kurt rolled his eyes before crossing his arms, angry at his brother’s lack of tact when it came to all things romantic. “First of all, it’s not capital ‘B’ Biology, but lower case ‘c’ chemistry that you want to make sure you still have with Rachel, otherwise it sounds like you’re taking a Science class with her,” Kurt said knowingly, “and you don’t do it when you’re still with Quinn. You call things off with Quinn, wait a respectable amount of time after the break up,” here Finn wanted to interrupt but Kurt shushed him with a finger, “and then you ask Rachel out.”

            “Why do I have to wait after we break up? And why can’t I just ask Rachel out now?” Finn asked, biting into a cookie and dipping it into Kurt’s mug of milk, as his tipped over.

            “The answer to both of those questions is because you need to have some respect for Quinn,” Kurt said, looking at him with pursed lips as he drank his beverage. “You can have the rest of my milk, by the way.”

            “Oh, my bad, did you want…?” asked Finn between mouthfuls of cookies and milk. “Well,” he said after he swallowed, “I do respect Quinn. _She’s_ the one who won’t do anything with me. At least with Rachel she’d let me feel a little under her sweater, and once she stuck her hand in my pants and – .”

            “La la la la la,” Kurt sang, sticking his fingers in his ear as he ignored Finn’s story. “Not listening, not listening to the disgusting things you and Rachel did in your spare time.”

            Finn pulled Kurt’s fingers from his ears. “I still don’t understand why I just can’t ask Rachel out now. Not even for a bite to eat?”

            “No. You can’t even ask her to walk across the street with you if you intend for it to lead to something more,” Kurt said. “Cheating is just…, aside from telling someone they look good in plaid, it’s the most despicable, deplorable, horrendous, incredibly awful thing you could do to someone. It basically says you don’t respect the other person, and you’re too much of a coward to say it to their face.”

            “I never thought of it that way,” Finn said, sinking back into the bed in reflection. “You know Quinn cheated on me with Puck last year.”

            “Which is why we all called you an idiot for getting back together with her in the first place,” Kurt said, examining his nails. Finn couldn’t help but smile at his brother’s help.

            “Thanks buddy,” Finn said, patting his brother on the back. “I know what to do now.”

            “Okay,” Kurt said. When Finn just sat there smiling, finishing up the last of the cookies on the plate, Kurt said, “You can go now, Finn.”

            “Oh, well,” Finn said, licking his fingers clean. “I was wondering if I could just…”

            “Did you watch a scary movie again?” Kurt asked.

            Finn nodded his head. “ _Scream_ and _Cujo_ ,” he said sheepishly.

            “Get in,” Kurt motioned. Finn yipped in delight and crawled under the covers to snuggle with Kurt. “I guess you won’t be brushing your teeth before you sleep,” Kurt said, turning to his side.

            “Why? It’s just us,” Finn said, wrapping an arm around Kurt and spooning up to his back. “You smell good. Like my grandma.”

            “Well, I can never hear that enough,” Kurt said, closing his eyes and trying his best to go to sleep despite Finn’s near chokehold on him.

            “Kurt?” Finn said after a few minutes.

            “What?” Kurt asked.

            “I think I had an accident,” he said awkwardly.

            Kurt rolled over and felt the wet spot Finn was lying in. “That’s the milk you spilled, Einstein. Get up so we can flip the mattress.”

            “Oh. For a minute I thought I had to start wearing those adult diapers,” Finn said, relieved.

            Finn and Kurt got up and flipped the mattress, Kurt really just directing while Finn did the manual labor. When Kurt slipped some clean blankets on they lay back down and Finn spoke up again.

            “Kurt?” Finn said.

            “What?” Kurt asked patiently. He knew by inviting Finn to sleep with him he’d never get to sleep, so he really couldn’t be angry with the boy, only himself.

            “Why do you always call me Einstein? Is he a fashion designer?” Finn yawned.

            “Yes, Finn,” Kurt agreed sleepily. “He is a world famous fashion designer, everyone knows that.”

            “Oh,” Finn said, finally satisfied for the time being. “Kurt?”

            “Yes, Finn,” Kurt responded, his patience wearing thin.

            “I’m glad you’re my little brother,” Finn said, hugging him tightly around the chest.

            “Me too, you moron,” Kurt said, finally letting sleep draw him in.


	13. My Hero

            Kurt reclined into the sofa next to Puck, trying to pay attention to the TV despite Puck running his hands all over his body, making him both shudder and moan. It was afterschool and they were alone in Puck’s house, his sister being at a friends and his mom at work. Puck was being his usual horndog self, hanging all over Kurt, who was drinking it up gratefully.

            “Noah,” Kurt whined, trying to pull Puck’s hand out from under his shirt, “your mom or sister could come home any minute.”

            “My mom’s working a double shift,” Puck whispered into Kurt’s ear, “and the brat’s spending the night at her friends. We’re all alone.”

            “Dangerous territory indeed,” Kurt said breathily.

            “You have no idea, babe,” Puck said, running his hands through Kurt’s hair.

            “You’re the first person I’ve let touch my hair without threatening death,” Kurt said, squeezing Puck’s bicep.

            “You’re hair is pretty awesome,” Puck said in awe of Kurt’s coiffure. “It’s cool how you got it all high and shit.”

            “Yes, Robert Pattinson totally stole the style from me,” Kurt bragged. He wrapped his fingers through Puck’s, the two joining hands as Puck bit at his neck. “No hickies, Noah.”

            “I kinda want to mark you, in case anyone tries to steal you from me,” Puck said, nipping at Kurt’s neck.

            “Steal me? Who would try to steal me?” Kurt asked, pulling away from Puck.

            “No one,” Puck said, trying to lunge his tongue back in Kurt’s ear. “Not some blond big-mouthed idiot who keeps hanging around you at school,” he said under his breath.

            “Sam again?” Kurt sighed. “Why can’t you get over the fact that we’re friends?”

            “There’s just something about that kid that I don’t like,” Puck said. “Ever since he and Santana broke up he’s been hanging around you like a frickin’ puppy.”

            “And what does that have to do with you?” Kurt asked, his cheeks burning now not with passion but with rage. “It’s not as if he knows I’m taken. I am taken, aren’t I?”

            “Here we go,” Puck sighed, sitting back onto the couch away from Kurt.

            “Yes, Noah, here we go. Here I go again, harping about how we’re together yet no one knows, how you can kiss me when no one’s around but can’t even look at me when we’re at school, or how we go to the movies but enter and leave at different times. Have I ever told you how special that makes me feel?” he asked sarcastically.

            “Quit with the martyr shit,” Puck spat. “If you don’t want to be together, just fuckin’ tell me so we can both get it over with.”

            “Fine,” Kurt said, rising to his feet, his body trembling with anger. He strode over to the front door but just as he pulled it open Puck’s heavy hand landed on it, sending it closed again.

            “Where the fuck are you going?” Puck asked.

            “You wanted me to leave, so I’m leaving,” Kurt said, his eyes flashing dangerously.

            “I didn’t say I want you to leave, I said if you want to leave then go ahead,” Puck defended.

            “Do you want me to leav - .”

            “ - No,” Puck said before Kurt even finished speaking. He looked embarrassed at being so vulnerable, especially in front of Kurt. “I mean, do whatever the fuck you want.” Puck turned away from Kurt, crossing his arms defiantly.

            “Stop doing that,” Kurt said, reaching out to turn Puck around. “Stop saying something you mean and then doing the ‘macho-Neanderthal’ thing by cursing and getting all defensive,” he said, running his fingers through Puck’s mohawk and pulling him down so their foreheads were touching. “Noah, do you want me to leave?” Kurt asked him again.

            “No,” Puck said lowly, his eyes closed, afraid to see Kurt’s reaction. “Fuck, we can’t even go an hour without arguing, can we?” Their faces were still pressed close, Puck’s breath hitting Kurt’s face warmly.

            “If it makes you feel any better, you started it,” Kurt said with a smirk.

            “Oh yeah?” Puck said deviously, reaching around to pull Kurt’s body flush against his. “I start everything, don’t I?”

            “Yes, you do,” Kurt said, playing along. Puck leaned down and kissed him; Kurt would have melted to the floor if Puck hadn’t been holding him up.

            “I’m sorry, Princess,” Puck whispered. “I know how hard this is for you, being with me and all, and I guess I’m just scared I’m gonna lose you.” Here Puck laughed. “Heh, what a fuckin badass, right? Being scared and shit,” he sneered.

            “You’re not going to lose me,” Kurt assured him. “I’m not going anywhere. You have your issues, and I have mine. I’m not leaving simply because things are difficult.”

            “I don’t deserve you, you know that right?” Puck said, diving in for another kiss.

            “I’ve become privy to that astute fact during our courtship, yes,” Kurt said, squealing as Puck began playfully gnawing at his neck.

            “Alright, back to the sofa,” Puck announced, lifting Kurt up.

            “Mmm, my hero,” Kurt sang. Once they were seated, with Kurt perched atop Puck’s lap, Puck once again began biting at Kurt’s throat. “Noah, no hickies,” Kurt whined again.

            “Fuck it,” Puck breathed, “I want everyone to know that you’re not some virginal ice-queen that’s never been kissed. You’re a hot piece of ass that someone slobbered over and macked on and wants to fuck.”

            Kurt closed his eyes, relishing each time Puck sucked at his flesh and gave it a little bite. He sighed, knowing each hickey was just another invisible leash Puck would use to lead him on. He tried to dismiss it, tried to push it back, but in reality he knew it was a hollow gesture Puck used to keep him quiet so they wouldn’t get into another fight. If he thought about it anymore, he might have cried at knowing Puck didn’t mean a thing he said, but with him currently smothering his neck with kisses, it was hard to feel sad.

**glee**

            The next morning at school Finn ran ahead to seek out Quinn, so Kurt was caught alone by the football team, and feeling nostalgic, they decided to throw him in the dumpster. Plucking a banana peel from his new DSquared turtleneck, Kurt tried his best not to cry, realizing Puck had seen them throw Kurt in and done nothing about it. He wondered why he should even bother getting out of the dumpster; why face the world outside when he was with the trash where he belonged. He was disposable to Puck, he was disposable to those jocks, so he might as well dispose of himself right now.

            Just as he’d given up all hope in humanity Sam’s head came peeking up over the dumpster lid, seemingly floating out of the clouds. His huge mouth broke out into a grin upon seeing Kurt. “I was wondering if you were just gonna spend the rest of the day in there,” he said.

            “Well it is oh so pleasant in here,” Kurt shrugged with a smile. He took Sam’s outstretched hand and pulled himself from the trash, dusting himself off once back on the parking lot asphalt. He saw Sam wasn’t alone; Mike had given him a boost into the dumpster, and behind them were Tina and Artie.

            “Are you okay, Kurt?” Tina asked, helping him brush off the garbage from his turtleneck.

            “Broken pride aside, I’m fine,” Kurt shrugged.

            “Don’t let those meatheads get to you,” Artie said, adjusting his glasses. “They’re just mindless jocks.”

            “Thank you, Artie,” Kurt said. “Thank you all, but it takes more than a swim in yesterday’s tuna casserole to take Kurt Hummel down.” Everyone laughed, and as the warning bell rang Tina helped wheel Artie up the ramp into the entrance, Sam running ahead of them as his class was further away.

            “Thank you, Mike,” Kurt said to the jock who had stayed behind to walk with him. “If it weren’t for you and Sam I might have had to hold my graduation ceremony in that very dumpster,” he chuckled.

            “No problem, Kurt,” he said. “Us Glee guys gotta stick together. Well, the good ones at least.”

            “What do you mean?” Kurt inquired.

            “I saw Puck with those guys,” Mike said as they strolled down the hall. “I get he was outnumbered and maybe that’s why he hesitated to come to your rescue, but if he was a real ‘badass’ like he keeps bragging he is, he wouldn’t have let that happen to you. I mean, the guy could have at least gone back and helped you out of there,” he scoffed.

            “Yes, I suppose he chose the coward’s way out,” Kurt said, biting his lip anxiously.

            “I know I shouldn’t say this because he’s my friend and we’re on football together, but Puck can be a selfish dick when he wants to be,” Mike said.

            “No, of course. You more than anyone can best attest to his selfish tendencies, being you’ve known him intimately and for so long,” Kurt concluded, knowing he knew Puck more intimately than Mike and therefore knew how truly selfish he could be.

            “Don’t let it get to you,” Mike said, clapping Kurt on the back. “Puck just looks out for Puck; that’s how he’s been for years, and I don’t see why he’d change now. Anyways, see you in Glee,” he said before departing down another corridor for class.

            “Yes, in Glee,” Kurt responded absentmindedly. He marched slowly to class, not even the loud shrill of the tardy bell breaking him from his reverie.

**glee**

            Puck and Kurt made no contact so far that day, as was usual. They didn’t even speak in the hall; at least, not without their friends around so people wouldn’t think they were talking to each other. In everyone’s eyes, though Puck and Kurt weren’t bully and victim anymore, they were far from friends. 

            Later that afternoon between classes, Puck stared forlornly at Kurt from down the hall. He had been kicking himself all day, wondering why he’d been such a pussy that morning. He should have intervened and stopped the guys from throwing Kurt into the dumpster like he was garbage. He knew Kurt had seen him, and apparently some of the other guys from Glee had as well, judging by the way they treated him during rehearsals. But he didn’t care what they thought; he just cared about Kurt, and how he could make it better for him.

            He nervously bit at his thumbnail, a childhood habit he’d only recently started up again. He kept staring at Kurt, hoping he would look up from his locker and see him, and see the remorse in his eyes. Instead the countertenor was shuffling through his notes, looking for papers he needed for his next class. Puck sighed, looking away, afraid at being caught staring by someone else.

            He saw Karofsky walking towards Kurt, a slushie in his hand and a wicked smile on his lips. Puck stood frozen, unsure of what he should do: if he confronted Karofsky to protect Kurt, he might as well wave a rainbow flag around now because that’s how it’d look to everyone in the hall; but if he didn’t save Kurt, that’d be two strikes against him in one day, and he knew his relationship with Kurt was already hanging on by a thread.

            So he chose the hidden third way out. He walked up to Karofsky as if he were just passing by and stuck his foot out, making the jock trip and face plant onto the floor, the slushie spilling all over him. The hall erupted into laughter, Puck chuckling as well at seeing Karofsky spread eagle on the floor, the red slushie spilled out around him like a giant stain. Karofsky rolled himself over and stared daggers at Puck. He leapt to his feet and pushed Puck into the lockers, his body slamming hard into the cold metal.

            “What the fuck, Puckerman?!” he yelled. A crowd began forming, sensing a fight.

            “Dude, don’t blame your trippiness on me,” Puck defended coolly. He saw Karofsky was turning red, although that could have been the slushie. Puck simply smiled at the angry jock, knowing the cooler he played it the more riled up Karofsky would get; nothing made someone angrier than the person they were mad at keeping a calm head.

            “You tripped me, you fucker,” Karofsky accused. “Trying to protect your little Glee butt-buddy?”

            “I didn’t know who you were gonna slushie,” Puck shrugged, his back still pressed against the lockers. “But since we’re talking about it, what is your obsession with Hummel? Why you always picking on him?” Here Karofsky’s eyes darted wildly around, looking at the crowd of students circling them, knowing Puck’s very accusation would send tongues wagging all over school about how he, Karofsky, seemed to fixate his bullying tendencies on Kurt and no one else.

            Before Karofsky could come up with some monosyllabic response, Mr. Schue pushed through the crowd. “Everything all right here?” he asked, knowing full well it wasn’t.

            “Yeah, we’re cool,” Karofsky said, stepping away from Puck but still eyeing him murderously.

            “Puck?” said Mr. Schue.

            “Just talking,” Puck said, his eyes locked with Karofsky’s, knowing he’d hit something on the head with his accusation.

            “Well I think you’ve guys talked enough for one day,” Mr. Schue suggested. “All right everyone, back to class,” he said, shepherding the students away. Karofsky walked away, the slushie soaking through his clothes and making his sneakers squeak as he left.

            “What’s going on down there?” Sue screamed through her bullhorn from the other end of the hall. “I can’t see anything through the fluorescent light bouncing off the mass of greasy, adolescent foreheads crowded down at that end of the hall.”

            “It’s alright, Sue, I’ve got it under control,” Mr. Schue yelled back.

            “Why William, why am I not surprised? Just when I think I couldn’t possibly see more oily, slicked up individuals, you stroll in with your I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter hair and make me second guess myself,” Sue insulted, her bullhorn making her voice echo throughout the halls.

            Mr. Schue left to reprimand Sue, who was still yelling insults about him, leaving Puck leaning against the lockers. He looked down the hall to where Kurt was standing and staring with an admiring look on his face. Puck smirked before puckering his lips, miming a kiss to him. Kurt simply quirked his eyebrow before chuckling and turning to go to his next class, Puck admiring the way his ass moved as he walked away.

 


	14. Hot and Cold

            “Is there a reason Mr. Schue has summoned us all at this ungodly hour?” Kurt announced, plopping down into a seat next to Sam and curling up in a ball, snuggling up to Mercedes for warmth. The entire Glee Club was present nearly forty minutes before school actually started, seemingly under the instruction of their advisor.

            “No idea,” Sam said, a yawn stretching his already big mouth. He casually slipped his arm over the back of Kurt’s chair, no one noticing the gesture except for a possessive Puck who was sitting in the row behind them.

            “Well he better hurry up,” Santana snapped, “I’m freezing my nipples off in this freakin auditorium.”

            “Mine look like pepperoni slices,” Brittany said, peeking down Cheerios blouse, a curious Artie looking down as well.

            “This is way too fucking early in the morning to function,” Puck said, putting his boots up on the chair in front of him, which happened to be Sam’s, disconnecting his arm from around Kurt’s chair. Sam turned around and glared daggers at Puck, who simply quirked his eyebrow threateningly.

            “I want to go back to sleep,” Mike whined, cuddling up to Tina.

            “Finn’s already there,” Quinn said, shaking her snoring boyfriend awake.

            Mr. Schuester walked up to the students, red-eyed and out of breath, taking a seat and staring at the stage expectantly. Everyone was confused.

            “Umm, Mr. Schue,” Tina began, “is there a reason you called us here so early?”

            “I didn’t call you guys,” Mr. Schue said. “Rachel had a last minute addition for this week Divas lesson and when I told her we didn’t have the time during school she said you all agreed to show up early to watch it.” He turned to look at his tired, angry, and confused students. “That is why you’re all here, right?”

            “I’m going to kill that hobbit witch,” Santana scoffed, expressing everyone’s feelings toward the situation.

            Just as their anger at Rachel reached a boiling point, the lights in the auditorium went down, replacing it with a few flashing strobe lights.

            “Is that electronic music?” Tina asked, squinting her eyes as the rhythm boomed through the speakers.

            “That is a synthesizer,” Kurt said, trying to place the song. “What an unusual genre choice for Rachel.”

            “Are we in a time machine?” Brittany asked as a dense fog covered the stage.

            “You guys, I know this song,” Mercedes said lowly, her eyes wide with realization.

            “Wha – oh dear Dior,” Kurt said, clutching his chest as realization dawned on him as well. “Tell me she is not performing this song. Not with…well, you know who in the audience.”

            “She wouldn’t,” Tina said, having finally recognized the song as well. “She’s not that brave.”

            Rachel finally took the stage, the light shining off her white fur vest as she sang through the fog. _“Call your girlfriend, it’s time you had the talk. Give your reasons, and say it’s not her fault, but you just met somebody new,”_ she sang, staring directly at Finn. The entire Glee Club was shocked at her courage, especially at a song with such a blatant message. _“Tell her not to get upset second guessing every thing you said and done. And when she get’s upset tell her how you never met to hurt no one. And you tell her that the only way her heart will mend is when she learns to love again, and it won’t make sense right now but you’re still her friend, and that you let her down easy.”_ She danced as if she were possessed, her arms moving wildly as she sang.

            _“Call your girlfriend, it’s time you had the talk,”_ she sang imploringly to Finn, who seemed to be the only one who didn’t recognize the lyrics for what they were. For her part Quinn part looked pissed. _“Give your reasons, say it’s not her fault, but you just met somebody new. Don’t you tell her how I give you something that you never even knew you missed.”_ Here Quinn’s eyes blazed dangerously, and she crossed her arms as if it were the only thing that stopped her from jumping on stage and clawing Rachel’s eyes out. _“Don’t you even try and explain how it’s so different when we kiss. You just tell that the only way her heart will mend is when she learns to love again, and it won’t make sense right now but you’re still her friend, and that you let her down easy.”_

            Rachel finished her performance with a smile, Mr. Schue and Finn applauding loudly, the others simply clapping their hands a few times before ceasing. Quinn wasn’t clapping at all. After the awkward performance the Glee Club sat frozen, unsure what to do, waiting for someone to cut through the tension that seemed to fill the auditorium. When Quinn rose to her feet Kurt and the girls held their breath, waiting for the inevitable.

            “You bitch!” Quinn cried, running towards the stage. Rachel simply stood in place, screaming at the top of her lungs. Finn, with his long legs, was able to stride in front of Quinn and stop her, holding her back despite her arms and legs lashing and striking wildly.

            “Quinn! What the heck are you doing?” Finn asked, staring questioningly at his girlfriend.

            “Are you serious?” Quinn asked, still fighting to get around Finn. “She basically just sang that you should dump me.”

            “Is that what that song was about?” Finn asked, looking to Rachel.

            “It was j-just a song,” Rachel stuttered. “There are many ways one could interpret the lyrics. I simply chose it because Robyn is a diva, despite her relative anonymity in America.” Kurt rolled his eyes, knowing Rachel chose that song for a reason.

            “You are so pathetic,” Quinn spat. “When are you going to get it through your head that Finn is mine?”

            “God, I love it when couples fight,” Santana said excitedly, sitting amongst an increasingly uncomfortable Glee Club. “It’s like foreplay.”

            “Hey!” Finn defended. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

            “So are you just going to pretend she didn’t sing that song?” Quinn said.

            The bell rang, interrupting their fight. Quinn stormed off, ignoring Finn’s call for her to stay. He hesitated, turning to look at a dejected Rachel before making up his mind and running after Quinn. The others got up from their seats, filing out to their next class. Mr. Schue followed them, shaking his head at the drama that always seemed to follow his club.

            Kurt, Mercedes, and Tina huddled together to gossip on what just happened; Sam seemed to want to walk with them, but when Mike and Artie called him away, he simply gave Kurt an awkward wave before departing. Kurt simply smiled back; Tina and Mercedes laughed at Sam’s adorable attempt at flirting. The three ambled on, Mercedes and Tina unsure as to whether they should talk about the Finn-Rachel-Quinn love triangle and Sam’s obvious feelings for Kurt.

            “I for one cannot understand those two’s fixation on Finn,” Kurt said, “but I can guarantee that it’s not the last time we’ll hear of Rachel pining over him.” Mercedes and Tina shrugged; it seemed Kurt would stay in the dark concerning Sam.

            “There ain’t no shame in her game, I can tell you that,” Mercedes said.

            “What do you mean?” Tina asked.

            “She went after him,” Mercedes said, a little proud of Rachel’s actions. “She saw something she wanted and went for it. Even though it made her look like a complete basket case, at least she tried. You can’t say she didn’t go down swinging.” With that Mercedes waved bye to them both before departing.

            “She’s right,” Tina said, agreeing with Mercedes’ logic. “Rachel may be certifiable, but at least she knows what she wants and is brave enough to go after it. How many of us can say we have that kind of courage?” She bid Kurt goodbye before going off to her next class as well.

            ‘Courage,’ Kurt thought to himself as Puck walked past him, not even acknowledging his existence. He sighed before raising his head haughtily and pretending it didn’t affect him. ‘Yes, how many of us have that indeed.’

**glee**

            Later that day Mercedes sought out Kurt between classes. “Hey white boy,” Mercedes said, walking up to Kurt and slipping her arm through his. “I’ve been looking for you. So you know how I’m doing a number for Glee today? Well, Brittany was supposed to help me, but she dropped out and I was hoping you’d fill in for her.”

            “Why Miss Jones, are you asking me to sway my hips in the background while you take center stage and easily attain vocal heights not even the greatest mountain climber can reach?” Kurt asked rhetorically, smiling because he knew he couldn’t refuse Mercedes anything.

            “Actually, Hummel, you don’t really dance. You shimmy and shake,” Santana said, joining the duo on their way to class.

            “Ignore her,” Mercedes advised.

            “I always do,” Kurt said right to Santana’s face, smiling mockingly.

            “Anyways, I wanted to do that new Beyoncé song “Love On Top”, and I got Tina in, but I really need a trio,” Mercedes said. “Please?”

            “I’d love to,” Kurt said excitedly. For a while he’d wondered if it wasn’t really Puck being afraid that kept him from coming out and acknowledging their relationship, but if it were because he didn’t know if Kurt was in it for the long haul. Kurt figured if he let Puck know he liked him, like really, really liked him, then Puck would get braver and find the strength to announce Kurt and he were more than friends. “But are you sure I’m the right fit. Why not ask Rachel or Quinn?”

            “Or me?” Santana asked offended.

            “Rachel would just make this all about herself,” Mercedes said casually, “and Quinn is on the warpath after what happened this morning, so no one’s really talked to her.”

            “Wait a minute. Why was I not invited to take part in this backwards reproduction of _Dreamgirls_?”

            “Because I still haven’t forgotten that time I was on Cheerios doing Coach Sylvester’s crazy diet and you filled my locker with tater tots,” Mercedes said, glaring evilly at Santana.

            “That was so last year,” Santana said with a wave of her hand. “And don’t tell me you didn’t snarf down all those poor little potato babies when no one was looking.”

            “See, right there,” Mercedes said, shoving a finger in Santana’s face. “What makes you think I want you on back-up when I can’t even talk to you for more than five seconds without wanting to rip your head off and fry it like a churro.”

            “It’s always food with you, isn’t it Wheezy?” Santana smiled.

            “Whoops, gotta go girls,” Kurt said, slipping out from between Mercedes and Santana. He honestly loved his bestie, but there was no way he was getting involved in a shouting match between the two. He doubted his father’s health insurance covered ‘injuries caused from surly divas’.

            He had barely walked a few paces down the hall when a hand shot out from the janitor’s closet and pulled him in. A large, calloused hand covered his mouth, muffling what would have undoubtedly been a very feminine scream.

            “Good Givenchy, Noah,” Kurt huffed, wrenching Puck’s hand from his face, “you scared me half to death            ”

            “Sorry, Princess,” Puck said with a chuckle. He tucked his hands in Kurt’s back pockets, delicately squeezing his ass. “I just had to see you.”

            “So we’re sticking with ‘Princess’,” Kurt said with a roll of his eyes. “ _And_ we have Glee in two periods,” Kurt said, trying to push Puck away as he nibbled on his ear. “You could have seen me then.”

            “Did I say ‘see’?” Puck asked, blowing air into Kurt’s ear. “I meant taste.” With that he eased his hand around Kurt’s throat and squeezed tightly as he kissed Kurt, massaging Kurt’s tongue with his own and biting at his lip when he finally came up for breath.

            “What do you say we ditch school and you and I…spend some alone time together?” Puck said, rolling his hips into Kurt.

            Kurt gathered all his strength and said firmly, “No, thank you.”

            Puck pulled away from sucking on Kurt’s neck and said, “Are you seriously passing on some uninterrupted time with Puckzilla?”

            “How wonderful. Another nickname,” Kurt said drolly. Seeing Puck wasn’t laughing he said, “You have to know by now, Noah, that yes, I would love some uninterrupted time with ‘Puckzilla’, but I don’t want it to be on some random day when we have nothing better to do. I want it to be special, with white linens and candlelight and romantic music. Not now.”

            “Fine,” Puck sighed. “I better get going.”

            “You’re going to class already?” Kurt said surprised, checking his watch. “You might be early for once.”

            “I’m not going to class, babe,” Puck said. “I’m going to the weight-room to work off some of this unused energy, and if that doesn’t work, then I’m going to have to take Puckzilla out for some personal exercise in the showers.”

            “Well at least you’re going to be in some part of school today,” Kurt shrugged, kissing Puck bye.

            “See you in Glee, Princess,” Puck said, giving Kurt a quick slap on the ass, making him frown.

            “Oh, right, I’m going to be helping Mercedes with a number today, and I hope you pay attention because the song applies to you as well,” Kurt said, biting his lip anxiously.

            “I’ll be all ears,” Puck said, kissing Kurt one last time. “Well, I’ll be mostly ears. The rest of me will continue to be a badass sex-shark with an enormous dick.” Puck smiled as he exited the janitor’s closet ahead of Kurt.

            “How very attractive,” Kurt said with a roll of his eyes.

**glee**

            “And now, ladies and gentlemen, I believe Mercedes has her performance for this week’s lesson ,” Mr. Schuester announced excitedly, stepping aside to give Mercedes the stage.

            “Thanks, Mr. Schue. I wanted to do this song as a part of this week’s lesson on Divas because I don’t think there’s anyone who personifies that more than the fierce, fabulous Beyoncé,” she said with a smile. “Hit it!”

            Mercedes snapped, and Tina and Kurt jumped down from the riser to join her at the front of the choir room. Kurt and Tina were shaking their hips, their backs to the audience as they sang “ _Bop dop da dah_ ” while Mercedes adjusted the microphone.

            “ _Bring the beat in_ ,” Mercedes sang, as Kurt and Tina turned to face the audience, both smiling as they sang backup.

            “ _Honey, honey, I can see the stars all the way from here. Can’t you see the glow from the window pane? I can feel the sun whenever you’re near, every time you touch me I just melt away. Now everybody asks me why I’m smiling out from ear to ear_ ( **they said love hurts** ), _But I know_ ( **it’s gonna take a little work** ). _Oh whoa, nothing’s perfect but it’s worth it after fighting through my fears. Now finally you put me first!”_

Kurt sang, unable to keep the smile off his face as images of him and Puck filled his mind. He tried not to laugh at how ridiculously happy he was. He stared at Puck throughout the performance, resisting the urge to grab the mic and point directly at his - well, he could say it at least to himself – boyfriend.

_“ **Baby it’s you! You’re the one I love! You’re the one I need! You’re the only one I see! Come on baby it’s you! You’re the one that gives your all! You’re the one that always calls! When I need you make everything stop, finally you put my love on top!** Oooo, come on baby, you put my love on **top, top, top, top, top!** You put my love on top. Whoo hoo, come on baby! You put my love on **top, top, top, top, top!** You put my love on top.”_

            There was an extra bounce in Kurt’s step as he hit every part of his choreography, something that wasn’t lost on Santana. She sat in the audience with the rest of the Glee Club, her arms crossed, ready to hate every part of the performance simply because she wasn’t involved in it. When she noticed Kurt, however, smiling like a damn fool and singing every part of the song as if he meant it, she couldn’t help but be interested. She followed Kurt’s line of vision and realized he was staring directly at Puck. Puck wasn’t exactly transfixed on Kurt; he was shifting in his seat uncomfortably, and he flashed a smile every now and then at Kurt, but he seemed to be sitting lower in his chair than a proud boyfriend should. Santana smirked happily to herself, crossing her arms in satisfaction as she realized what was going on between Kurt and Puck. When their performance ended, she stood up and applauded just as loudly as the rest of them, hooting and whistling not because she thought they did a good job, but because finding out this secret made her delirious with joy.

            “Hey!” Kurt called out to Puck as the Glee Club disbanded. Puck stayed while the others departed, his hands in his pockets as he shuffled his feet nervously. Kurt caught up to him, still smiling like an idiot, waiting for Puck to hug or kiss him now that they were alone. “So, did you like it?”

            “It was cool,” Puck said, looking around the choir room. “Really bitchin’.”

            Kurt arched his eyebrow, hugging himself as he realized Puck didn’t really care for the performance. “Yes, I suppose it was…‘bitchin’.”

            “Yeah. I’ll see you around,” Puck said urgently. He turned on his heel and jogged away. Kurt was left there, shaking his head as he realized he’d done yet another thing to make Puck upset.

            Kurt walked slowly out of the choir room, his sadness weighing down each step as he thought what a difference there was between the Puck from this morning and the Puck he’d just seen after the performance. Add to that the difference he felt performing that stupid love song with Puck in mind, and how he felt now and he blushed as he realized what a fool he’d made of himself.

            He walked forlornly down the hall, not exactly excited to get to French even though it was his favorite class. He heard the squeaking of sneakers as he realized someone walk up next to him and without even looking up he knew who it was.

            “I’m not really in the mood to talk now Santana, so could you please leave me alone?” Kurt said.

            “How’d you know it was me?” Santana asked.

            “I smelled that cheap tapwater you call perfume,” he said haughtily. It seems being scorned by Puck caused him to not only be upset but bitchy as well.

            “Is it Asshole Day? Because I don’t remember getting the memo,” Santana said.

            “Every day is Asshole Day with you, isn’t it?” Kurt said, reaching his locker and retrieving his notes and textbooks he needed for his next class.

            “Ouch, that hurt,” Santana said, smirking at Kurt. “What brought on this sudden rage? Did you and Puck have a fight?”

            Kurt slammed his locker shut. He turned to Santana, his cheeks a furious red. “What are you talking about?” he asked, though the worry in his voice could not be hidden.

            “Don’t play dumb, Hummel,” she said, taking his hand in hers as she led him down the hall. “I know you and Puck are…I don’t know, jerking each other off or whatever. And I don’t mean full on sex, because I can see in the way you walk that you’re still a virgin.”

            “How did you – who told you?” Kurt asked, trying to pull his hand away. Santana held his hand firmly, continuing to lead him down the hall.

            “No one. It was so fucking obvious. I mean, oh my God, how did I not see it sooner?” she asked rhetorically. “I knew Puck was seeing someone new since he keeps turning down my sexts, but I never knew he switched from innies to…outties,” she said with a sneer.

            “Look, this is all really new for both of us, so could you please find it in that dark, cold heart of yours to keep this a secret?” he implored.

            “Whatever,” Santana said. “I don’t really intend to let anyone else in on this little nugget of info. At least not until I find out how letting everyone know will directly benefit me. Until then,” she said, stopping in front of a coffee machine, “you can buy me shit.”

            “I suppose this won’t be the last time you blackmail me into buying you various things,” Kurt said as he begrudgingly inserted money into the vending machine and ordered her a cup of coffee.

            “That’s right,” Santana said happily, cupping the hot coffee between her hands. “Just think of all the fun we’ll have, you buying me nice, new things, while I keep your little romance with Puck a secret.”

            “Yes, how exciting,” Kurt said monotonously.

            “To be honest, though,” Santana said, blowing on her coffee, “I don’t see what’s so wonderful about Puck. I mean, he’s got a big dick, and that’s nice and all, but if I were you I wouldn’t pay a blackmailer just to keep things going with him.”

            “Well, you’re not me,” Kurt reminded her. “Maybe there are parts of him you haven’t seen before, parts that show him as a much kinder, caring person.”

            “Oh, sweetie,” Santana said, pinching Kurt’s cheek, “I’ve seen _every_ part of Puck, and believe me, he’s pretty nice to look at and incredibly good at fucking, but when it comes to relationships he just plain sucks.” With that Santana strode away, and Kurt was left there wondering if Puck really was worth all this trouble.


End file.
